


Letters to Winterfell

by What_The_Earth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-01-14 11:58:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18475765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_The_Earth/pseuds/What_The_Earth
Summary: A storm was brewing within the seven kingdoms, there would be war before the long summer ended but Olenna Tyrell would see the roses survive the winter.But first, she had a letter to write.





	1. Of Wings and Words

A storm was brewing in the seven kingdoms- that much has clear. The lannisters were performing a poor attempt at mummery, parading their lions as stags and no matter how Mace protested Olenna would not be swayed. 

 

Her granddaughter would not be betrothed to that incestuous blond bastard Joffrey. Margaery would be a queen but not by the hand of a Lannister.

 

She had heard through numerous reliable sources that the ‘honourable’ Ned Stark was to become the kings hand. The poor fool. He'll be eaten alive at court just like that Arryn, but perhaps they could help each other...

 

His eldest son was the right age for Margaery and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. Though he unfortunately most likely shares the Stark trait of being blinded by honour and blind to politics.

 

No matter, better a foolish wolf than a mad lion.

 

Yes. The Stark boy would be a good match for Margaery. They had bet against them during Robert's rebellion and she would not make the same mistake twice. 

 

Stark was almost king if not for his damnable honour bestowing it to his drunkard friend in grief. But that too will be remedied, Roberts whoring and drinking will take him to an early grave and when the Lannister’s and Baratheon’s were tearing themselves apart over the line of successions. 

 

The Tyrell’s would be ready,the Roses and Wolves 

 

* * *

 

Ned stark was more than surprised at the arrival of a letter enclosed in green wax delivered by an equally green boy.

 

“Loras Tyrell, my lord” The knight of flowers addressed him, though that much was obvious as he brought the scent of the roses with him. The very same as the ones embossed on his ostentatious armour.

 

He could see Sansa swooning already.

 

“You are most welcome to Winterfell ser but I must beg the question as to your arrival? You are here at least a month before the Royal entourage?”

 

“I believe you will find your answer in that letter, lord Stark”

 

_ Ned stark, _

_ It has come to my attention that you are to become the new hand and that Robert seeks a betrothal between you eldest daughter and his son Joffrey. Take great discretion with what I am to tell you as it may be considered treasonous.  _

 

_ There is reason for the untimely death of Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon's flee from Kingslanding. They uncovered that the crown prince is as much a Baratheon as I, he is the result of Cersei's illicit trysts with her twin the kingslayer.  _

 

_ The king has no true born children. _

 

_ Be wise in your decisions Lord Stark, heed my advice and I believe that the Stark’s and Tyrell's may have a fruitful partnership. I am entrusting my grandson Loras to ensure this reaches you before the King does.  I also ask of you to consider a potential betrothal between your eldest and my only granddaughter Margaery.  _

 

_ She is not a weak flower of the south but perhaps one of your winter roses, growing strong. _

 

_ Olenna Tyrell. _

 

Ned knew that Robert wasn't simply coming up to visit Lyanna's grave but the extent of the mess that would be traveling with him was astounding.

 

He had never cared for the kingslayer from the moment he met him, perched upon the Iron Throne after breaking his vows disgusted him. But to bed the king's wife? His own sister? Truly emboldened his distrust and loathing of the Lannister's.

 

But how could he possibly reject the king's proposal without inciting the fury of his old friend? The largest scandal of westeros was currently travelling up the Kings Road to visit him and he had no idea what he could possibly do.

 

Though he wasn't keen to trust the Tyrell's, they were far too manipulative for the ways of the north but perhaps it might be good to have allies in the south. Especially allies who controlled the Reaches food supplies.

 

Ned had married a Southron wife and though he had expected his children to marry Northerners perhaps this pairing could help unite the stark divide of the north and south.

* * *

 

 

Winterfell was a flutter of activity preparing for the arrival of the royal retinue and the lord paramount of the North was sitting in the Godswood with his wife and holding both the cursed scroll from the bereft Lysa Arryn and the intriguing letter from the Queen of Thorns.

 

Ned paced in front of the Weirwood, stopping momentarily every other word to see his wife's opinion “i'm damned if I do and damned if I don’t Cat. I don't know what we can do”

 

“I believe there is little you can do but accept. Ned we must prepare for the storm that will arrive with the Baratheons, if you are to leave for king's landing isn't it better if we make allies with the south?” rising from the stump to face him

 

He raised his hand to gently tuck a stray curl back into his love’s hair “My wise Southron wife, you are right. But how do you propose we go about this?”

 

A determination overtook the eyes of his wife, as she stated the following as though it were the most obvious thing in the world  “We host Loras, get Robb to befriend and see what we can glean of their intentions. But I have a feeling the Tyrell's would only seek us out if they believe they can benefit and with winter coming Ned we could do with the support from the reach.”

 

“No matter what comes with the wars from the south”

 

“Then there still lies the matter of the betrothals Robert seeks, he'll surely not leave without tying one of his to one of ours.”

 

“Sansa will never forgive us if we don't let her have her prince. Perhaps Trystane Martell? A strong family with no love lost for the Lannister's. In fact perhaps even the young Loras Tyrell I imagine she would be quite enamoured with him and he is here already”

 

“Perhaps but first we should consult Sansa. In fact call a family meeting in the solar, it's best we don't lie to our children even if we are lying to the rest of Westeros”

 

“Aye. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives”


	2. The Truth is Rose Scented

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned decides to reveal some truths to his children and Margaery Receives letters.

**Sansa's POV**

The young Stark's (and Snow… and Greyjoy) were all to join their father in his solar. Each one eager to find out the meaning of this impromptu meeting.

Of course, Sansa had spied the Flower Knight the moment he had arrived through the castle gates, so she was positively giddy with excitement.

A proper knight in Winterfell!

Sure, there was Ser Rodrik and others but Loras was straight out of the stories her mother had read to her as a girl.

It his arrival did seem to trigger her parent’s anxiety and now they were being called to the solar, her father had even said that he needs to tell them the truth? Whatever that meant. But that doesn't explain why he had invited Jon there. He's not even a real Stark!

Perhaps it's about a betrothal? Oh, Gods how exciting would that be! Maybe that's why Ser Loras had arrived in Winterfell- to ask for her hand!

Sansa could barely contain her excitement at the prospect as she nearly barrelled into her father’s solar before she remembered that ladies do not barrel they glide. But that didn't mean she couldn't glide a little faster than usual.

Her siblings seemed just as antsy as she felt, immediately they all began to twitter to each other if they knew what this was about.

“Psst... Robb” Arya whispered, “has something happened? Has someone died?”

As Ned and Catelyn entered, they drew the attention of the room to them.

“I suppose you are wondering why you've been called in here. I thought it best not to keep any secrets from you, too much is at stake for you to blind to what is happening”

Well, your mother and I have received a raven from you Aunt Lysa and From Olenna Tyrell.” Ned stopped speaking, letting the room to fall in silence. “Now what we are about to talk about must not leave this room. Jon Arryn is dead.”

Immediately the room became overcome with shouts of “how?” and “why?” and a less grief-stricken tone from Arya “who killed him?”

At this Catelyn spoke up directing her answer to her wildest daughter “well, we have reason to believe that Jon Arryn's death was not due to natural causes as suggested, but instead due to being poisoned. Potentially by the Lannister’s.”

From the grief rose anger and fury at an exponential rate. The news of their uncle’s murder truly enraged them to the extent you'd almost believe their words were ours is the fury.

“Aye, I understand. Jon Arryn was like a father to Robert and me, to see him gone is a great tragedy to Westeros and the royal family. Arryn was one of the most honest men I've ever met, it there was indeed a plot to kill him it can only be that he discovered something that he shouldn't.”

“What's more is I’ve also heard word that Robert intends on coming up North with his family and all their courtiers to ask me to become his new hand”

“You can't leave the north!” Rickon hurled himself clinging to his father's leg begging him not to leave

Conversely Sansa was in equal measures delighted and worried that her father might follow the fate of the late Lord Arryn.

Robb spoke up out of the turmoil “what of the letter from Lady Tyrell? Does it add to this treachery?”

Sansa shocked at the mere idea that her beloved (if she has anything to say about it) would be dishonourable.

“No Robb, it was Lady Tyrell who warned us” once said it confused all the children, why would the reach concern itself with matters of the North?

“Everyone knows the Tyrell's are more interested in furthering their family,” Theon spoke up, his distrust palpable “Why would they bother to help the North? It's surely not out of the good of their hearts” Sansa always found that though Theon was very course in his language and quite ungentlemanly in manner she regarded his defensiveness of his new found home rather honourable. Though that might be her father's doing

There's something we'd like to discuss, Robb, when I leave for Kings Landing you will become the Lord of Winterfell, your mother will stay to help you with your new duties. Olenna Tyrell proposed a betrothal between you and her granddaughter Margaery. She is spoken of to be a great beauty and has inherited her grandmother's wit and intelligence.

Robb nodded solemnly, Sansa could only presume that he had already resigned himself to marrying for alliances and not for love. Something even she had not thought much of, when Sansa imagines getting married it's to a you beautiful, dutiful knight who names her queen of love and beauty (he is also of course from a good house but she's definitely marrying her love).

Personally, she couldn't imagine being disappointed to hear she was getting betrothed, she could feel her heart race at the mere prospect.

Then, it races for an entirely different reason.

“Sansa,” hearing her mother calling her she immediately felt dread pool in her belly, “what I'm about to say concerns you directly, and we hope that before you get your hopes up you listen to what your father and I tell you”

Sansa head nodded her accession but worried with the cuff of her dress.

“The king wishes to betroth you to the Crown Prince Joffrey but, we have reason to believe he is illegitimate.”

"Seems you have something in common with the crown prince then Snow" Theon jested to Jon

In one fell swoop they raised Sansa’s hopes of marrying a prince and just as quickly her dreams were crushed.

“He is the product of incest between the queen and the Kingslayer” even uttering the words Ned feels overwhelmed by disgust.

Jon curled into himself, he looked like he desperately wanted to leave the room and this discussion. Arya elbowed him and whispered loudly "does this mean Sansa will be as rude to him as she is to you" but was abruptly shushed by Jon as he shot a scared look at Catelyn.

“But father, you can't refuse the King, and he won't accept any excuse”

“That's what we hoped to discuss with you, we don't want to immediately betroth you, we wished for your input. We thought perhaps Trystane Martell or one of the Tyrell's, or one of our bannerman but we know you want to go south.”

“I… uh I don't know” she felt the walls closing in on her as she struggled to comprehend this overload of information of her potential future.

“We can send you to ward with someone, we can send you off to the Eyrie, Riverrun or even further south if you wish”

She felt like she was at a crossroads, one road lead to becoming queen but to an imposter king, the other was to give up her dreams of being a great lady. But, perhaps this was her way of getting out of the dreary north.

With her mood immediately lifted as she imagined the warmth and courtly fashion of the south.

“Highgarden. I want to go to Highgarden”

* * *

 

**Robbs POV**

He was now betrothed. In a matter of seconds, it had been decided, of course his father had given him the option to decline but how could he, when it felt like lives were at risk?

He had of course heard rumours of the rose of Highgarden, she was heralded to be a true beauty, but he worried that someone that southern wouldn't survive up in the cold of the North.

It was common knowledge what had come of Jorah Mormont when he married Lynesse Hightower. Heated passion and yet she couldn't stick the cold, one thing led to another and then suddenly Jorah is selling slaves to keep her happy.

Not exactly what he wanted to model his marriage on.

Margaery was probably a devout believer in the seven; his mother was too and yet he felt more connected to the old god's in his very bones then he ever could ever feel with the seven in a sept.

No matter how many times his mother tried to drag him to a sept.

Gods how would she even cope with Grey Wind? She was probably every inch a proper lady and would faint at the sight of such a 'beast’. How could he marry anyone who would refuse to accept the very embodiment of his soul?

Robb was gone to the world as he worried that he didn't even notice the revelation about the prince or that his sister wanted to ward in Highgarden, the home of his new betrothed.

Robb finally broke out of his reverie, desperately trying to catch up with what just occurred, as his mother spoke up, “As for the rest of you, Arya we want to extend the option of warding to you as well.  Perhaps you might want to ward in Riverrun with your uncle Edmure” Arya scrunched up her forehead looking very much unlike the lady she was to his mother's chagrin.

Even Robb could see that as much as Arya wanted to travel, to see the seven kingdoms and her extended family she didn't want to lose the freedom she had in the North to be unladylike.

Their father, aware of his daughters’ fears interrupted to say “But I thought you might prefer to ward with the Mormont’s” Arya immediately perked up at the idea of training with the warrior women of Bear Island, but she shot a look at her half Brother.

Robb loved his wild little sister and though he understood how she felt like an outsider compared to her proper sister and despite being her big brother she would always prefer Jon.

“If that suits you we want you to leave before the king arrives” Ned then turned to Jon “if it would suit you could you escort her there, I trust you to keep her safe.”

“Who’s going south then? If half of you are going on in every other direction?” Theon’s tone seemed jaded, Robb wished that Theon understood how he too was apart of the Stark family just as Jon was.

“Bran will be going to king's landing with me, we will see about getting him to squire to one of the Kings Guard, but I am also bringing Jojen and Meera Reed for company when Howland arrives to greet the king.” Ned nodded at bran in response to his son’s excitement, “Theon you will staying here with Robb, he will need you if the banners are called.”

Theon's face fixed itself into a steely resolve, he wanted to prove his worth to his surrogate father.

It's felt like a turning point. His family was slowly being cast to each end of the seven kingdoms, he only hoped that they would be able to find each other in the end. At least he would have Theon with him, his brother in arms.

“We will confer later to finalise plans,” Ned shuffled Rickon off his lap, but the boy refused to budge, still clinging to his father for fear that he’d disappear off to Kingslanding and never be seen again.

“I will write a letter to Lady Tyrrell confirming the betrothal and Sansa’s wardship there, I would like both of you to begin correspondence with Margaery, but for now you all can go”

Arya, Bran and Sansa raced out the solar in excitement to either pack, plan or write letters; while he, Theon and Jon were slower to get up but all silently agreeing to spar and discuss what just happened.

As they reached the door Ned called out to Jon “there's something I need to tell you, and Catelyn” Jon's puzzled look was mirrored by all still in the room, but Ned shooed Rickon away and told him to go train with the older boys.

What could Father want Jon alone for? He said he didn't want to keep any secrets, well whatever it is Jon will probably tell him later.

* * *

** Margaery POV **

It had been a few weeks since her grandmother told her of her plan, and though she had gone behind her father’s back it was perfectly understandable. The idea of being married off like chattel just to appease her father’s reckless ambition didn't sit well with her- even if she would become queen.

Band so since discovering that her future lied in the north she has been doing her best to research more about the noble house of stark and there was something to be said about marrying into a family line that held nobility for longer than the seven kingdoms have been united.

They called them the ‘Kings of Winter’, and well, people call her grandmother the queen of thorns so perhaps their match would not be as foolhardy as her father would assume.

She was sitting on a balcony overlooking the gardens when a maid arrived to give her two letters. She had another in her hand, but she noted that it was addressed to her grandmother and shared the same seal as her two.

Grey wax embossed with a direwolf. Even if she hadn't been researching their family she would know their emblem.

Ah, so the starks have replied to her grandmother's proposal, but what confused her were the two letters for her. Surely, they would just reply to her grandmother?

In her curiosity and haste she pulled out a hair pin to open the letter in place of a letter opener.

_Dear Margaery,_

_I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, as we are not to be good sisters I will be sent down to Highgarden with your brother to ward there._

_From what I have heard of the Reach it sounds like a beautiful and plentiful land, and I cannot wait to visit it. Is it true that the music never stops there? And that there are golden roses as far as the eye can see? I don't mean to get swept up into the fantasy, but it sounds like the most beautiful place in Westeros._

_Your brother speaks very highly of you and your skills, he says your singing could rival the highest paid bard in the Reach, and of your skills with gardening._

_Is it true that there is such thing as flower language? My Septa once told me of a love story between a knight and a fair maiden who could not outwardly display their love for each other as he was in the king’s guard and so they would wear flowers. She said the Maiden always wore a flower crown and that she embodied the role of queen of love and beauty even if it was just her secret beloved who bestowed it upon her?_

_I cannot wait to meet you,_

_Best wishes,_

_Sansa Stark._

She seems like a very sweet girl, it'll be nice to have a girl close to her own age who wasn't one of her cousins to do thing with. And maybe she will find out more about her future husband and even make a friend out of it.

Folding the letter back into the envelope her gaze wanders over to the other letter. She was even more at a loss as to what it could contain

_Margaery Tyrell,_

_I presume you are aware of our betrothal, and I know that coming from the south you may not feel drawn to the North as I do but I hope that I can make it more hospitable for you._

_I don't want us to be strangers when we marry, I'd like to get to know you and at least be friends._

_There is much I would like to know you, you are said to share the same wit and intelligence of you grandmother which I look forward to seeing._

_Winterfell must seem barren compared to the lush gardens of Highgarden, but we do have glass gardens which I would love to show you some day. We may not have the same variety of roses as you do but our winter roses are just as beautiful._

_Sincerely,_

_Robb Stark._

Robb Stark was not what she expected, of course he not waxed lyrical poetry dedicated to her beauty as she had heard from many of the bards her father had hired. Instead, he seemed refreshingly honest compared to the veiled words she was used to when politics - and everything were concerned.

He was charming, in an earnest way, and Margaery wanted to get to know him too.

Margaery walked to room to stow away the letters in her vanity drawer and began writing a reply to the intriguing Robb Stark.

Once finished she noticed a lone rose petal that had fallen from the bouquet that sat on her desk and in a spur of the moment decision she decided to enclose it within the envelope.

Maybe she is being silly, but it felt like she was sending him a small part of herself, just something to remind him of her and the sweet smell of the roses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of studying I've been rewriting this but like this technically counts as English revision right? like this does count as using epistolary methods? I know some of you wanted to send Arya to Dorne and i kind of want to as well but as for now I don't think Catelyn would allow Arya to be that far away from her seeing as one daughter is already half the world away, but hopefully in future chapters we will see Aryas adventures across the seven kingdoms.
> 
> As for Sansa I am still keeping options open in regards to betrothals, i'm not going to pair her off with loras but after the most recent episode of Game of thrones i'm kinda feeling Theonsa.
> 
> Also if the POV jumps are sort of weird i'm trying to really write from the characters perspective so Sansa, seeing as shes still naive it seems more childish with notions of knights and maidens. 
> 
> i don't know if it works really well but I would love to read you insight and opinions on how the story is progressing (and hopefully we will have more Robbaery interaction soon)


	3. Chapter 3

**Ned**

 

His children were beginning to leave him. Sooner than he had always thought they would, Arya is still just a child and Jon is barely a man yet he has to send them away to protect them.

 

Gods help them if he shares the fate of his good brother. The pack would be spread across the seven kingdoms, he could only pray that they would find there way back to each other.

 

And so pray he did.  

 

He prayed for the protection of the old Gods to spread their influence down to the very south where the Godwoods have been disgraced and used for pleasure gardens, he prayed that he may live to see his children again, he prayed that Sansa and Arya would end their sisterly feud, he prayed Kingslanding wouldn't be the snake pit he knew it would be, but, most of all he prayed to ask Lyanna for forgiveness.

 

His head bowed in prayer just as it once bowed in deference to his close friend and King Robert. His hair hung low, covering his face from an outside view, his only sight was of the bleeding face upon the weirwood. Through which he hoped his sister could hear him.

 

‘I have kept my promise to protect him but I now have to send him away with the rest of my children, I beg your forgiveness. I fear once Robert arrives I shall see them for the last time but my end will be our reunion.’ he dares not speak aloud for the mercy he begs of her but, once his prayer is nearly concluded he ends it aloud with  “Maireann an marbh.”

 

A dead language for a dead woman, but the old tongue of the First Men is neglected in preference to common tongue the North remembers it. He feels close to his Gods, feels there presence with him as he sits and perhaps his words were true,  _ the dead remain. _

 

His silent prayer to his long gone sister echoes throughout the Godswood, the leaves themselves rustling her name.

 

It is there in his pensive state that his youngest daughter appears to him. Lyanna reborn.

 

Gods he wishes that he grant her everything that Lyanna was deprived of. She has her willfulness but he hoped against hope she would be cautious where her aunt wasn't.

 

“Ah, Arya just the person I was thinking of” he had asked for her but that seems inconsequential now, after all, she was to leave today and he feared he didn't know when he might see her again.

 

“I just wanted to erm.. Thank you for getting mother to agree to send me to bear island” Arya was positively timid compared to her usual self. Perhaps she thought he would acquiesce to Catelyn's protests and send her to Riverrun or worse, Kingslanding. Though, it would explain why she had actually gone to her lessons recently, come to think of it, he hasn't heard any complaints from Septa Mordane ever since it was announced.

 

Perhaps she is more cautious.

 

“Arya” she shuffled closer to him, “you must know I would never send you off somewhere you would hate to be, and you know I would never force you to be somebody that you aren't. And yes that means while on Bear Island you're allowed to wear as many trousers or dresses as you want” his heart soared as he saw a shy smile grace her face.

 

“I was going too anyway”

 

Of course, she was. But ned couldn't find it in himself to be filled with anything apart from mirth, his daughter would be equal to her direwolves namesake, like Nymeria she would be a fearsome opponent on the battlefield and to that, he felt proud that she shared the wolfblood of the Starks long before her.

 

He brought his daughter closer and embraced her in front of the weirwood trees, a symbol of his devotion to his family. Ned dreaded letting go of her,  for fear she was growing up and fear that he wouldn’t see her doing so. 

 

Ned didn't speak much, so neither did Arya, words were not needed. He was the quiet wolf so everything that he wanted Arya to know he put in the hug. 

 

In the end, he broke the silence, it was better not to dwell on what might be so he lightened the tone and shared in her excitement, “I hope you won't make too much trouble for Dacey and Maege.”

* * *

** Sansa **

 

Winterfell was peaceful in the early morning, sunlight streamed through the frosted windows and gave a warm glow to the dour castle yet this morning there was a small blur of fur and colourful ribbons she had decorated Lady with flying around followed by a very distressed Sansa.

 

“Lady! Come back here!” though Sansa was loath to act unladylike she found it quite impossible to do so while running after her pup who did not want to sit down and be groomed as she normally would.

 

Unfortunately for her, Lady had decided the best course of action was to escape to the training field.

 

To make matters worse- though Sansa could scarcely believe this could be worse, 

Lady had darted around the main hall and skirted around the maids nearly knocked Maester Luwin to the ground.

 

Leaving Sansa to swiftly address apologies to the people she saw as she ran past but all that came out was “sorry-sorry-excuse me- LADY NO!” it might almost be comical if not for the gossip that would surely spread to her mother. 

 

She was at a complete loss as to why Lady would act so… so unladylike? It was so unlike her to shirk Sansas calls and run off as…

 

Once outside Lady made a mad dash towards Nymeria, leading Sansa to run head first into someone.  As she began to fall back she heard a cry of “watch where you're go- oh shit Sansa” and suddenly caught by a flustered Theon.

 

“Any reason you decided to fall for me today,” he said with an infuriating smirk with a wink that she had seen other girls swoon for. But she was not like the other girls be they the whores and kitchen maids he acquainted himself with, she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell and she would not fall for his childish charm- but she might fall on top of him but that was entirely out of her control and a mistake she would not be repeating.

 

“My dazzling good looks or was it my famous humour” she was ready to stamp on his foot and wriggle out of his arms but she was constrained by propriety and of course- the fact that she was nearly perpendicular to the floor and the only thing stopping her from embarrassing herself further was Theon's arms that were holding her.

 

She would never hear the end of this.

 

“Don't think so much of yourself Theon,”  she scrambled up in as elegant a manner she could achieve and attempted to shake off the humiliation of being caught in such a state, “it’s just that Lady ran away”

 

He rose one eyebrow incredulously in response.

 

The mortification of it all! She wouldn't grant him a look let alone an answer and so she quickly continued to follow Lady to out to the training fields. Leaving her blush and embarrassment behind.

 

Gods if Theon lets slip to Robb she would never hear the end of it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Robb**

The impending arrival of the king had meant that Arya's excursion to Bear Island was. Brought forward in schedule so they would be leaving three days hence. Which consequently meant that there were very few standing at the gates of Winterfell to see Arya and Jon off. 

 

Robb strode out into the courtyard, mindful of the many people rushing in preparation but with the surest intentions to see his siblings off. Standing by the gate getting smothered in kisses by his mother was Arya, looking very much disgruntled about the situation but for the life of him, he couldn't see Jon.

 

As though Arya could read his mind she locked eyes with him and nodded over to the left and in typical Jon fashion there he was standing off to the side where the shadows would cover him. Sometimes Robb wondered whether Jon wanted to be seen at all or if he would rather disappear forever.

 

Even Jon's direwolf ghost seemed to follow in his footsteps in that regard, Theon had jested that ghost was simply Jon on four legs.

 

And so Robb went looking for Jon in the nearest dark corner he thought back to a few days before when his mother and father held Jon back to have a talk with him. He never did find out what they were talking about. 

 

Jon seemed even gloomier than usual if that was even possible, he wouldn't even look Robb in the eye when he went over to talk to him. “Jon! You're off then?” 

 

“Aye,” Jon's northern brogue sounded even more pronounced than usual as if he was trying to reaffirm to himself where he was from.

 

Robb clapped Jon on the shoulder and brought him in for a hug. “You never did tell me what father told you that day in the solar” at the very mention of that day Jon seemed to curl in on himself and turn away from him.

 

“I… I uh I don't know how to tell you.” Jon appeared to struggle what to say till he said “I shouldn't say”

 

Jon could barely look at Robb in the eye, which only made Robb worry more.

 

“Come on Jon, we are brothers. You can tell me anything” at that Jon seemed to be in an even worse state, even ghost began to whine a bit and hide behind his master. The rising tension led Robb to grasp at straws to find anything to say which would break the awkwardness that had arisen.

 

At Jon's waist, there was a skinny blade strapped to him, it looked positively absurd compared to the heavy longsword that he practised with that sat at his other side. “Any reason for the new blade? It's not exactly your size” Robb’s attempt at small talk seemed to pull Jon from his brooding and his eyes lit up at the mention of it.

 

Pulling it from its scabbard Jon held it up to Robb for inspection, Robb then lifted it and swung it around to test it. “It's light… and scrawny?”. His quizzical expression finally drove Jon to reveal the blades, true owner.

 

Before though he quickly glanced around to see if Catelyn was near before he uttered “Arya” 

 

His rapscallion sister was going to be truly overjoyed to be gifted with a sword of her very own and to be able to be trained with the fiercest warrior women in the Westeros. He could see why his mother looked as though she had sucked on a truly sour lemon and seemed to be teetering between threatening to geld Jon if any harm befalls Arya while she was in his custody. Or, doing so to Ned as he was the one who suggested it.

 

“Sent off to an island of warrior women with one of the best swordsmen I know, next time I see Arya she will be a formidable opponent on the battlefield. Mother will hate it”  he let out a guffaw at the sight of his tiny sister going up against their mother in a battle of wits.

 

Jon finally seemed to lighten up at the mention of that spectacle “it would be legendary, would rival the battle of the trident in infamy”

 

* * *

**Margaery**

 

Margaery sat with her cousins overlooking the gardens on the balcony. They were all muttering between themselves as they embroidered yet Margaery found she wasn't tracing the same dog pattern their septa had insisted on like everyone else but more of a wolf.

 

Her grandmother would laugh it off but still, Margaery couldn't shake the idea of it being a sign.  

 

As though called from her very thoughts, her grandmother appeared. She sat on the chair next to Margaery as though it were a throne and shooed the rest of them away- including the somewhat fuming septa.

 

“Getting you to embroider dogs now? Eugh at least none of your simpering cousins will be doing any golden roses.” 

 

Her grandmother's harsh gaze critiqued the embroidery hoop in front of her before throwing it behind her, “Honestly roses? For Tyrell? Simply groundbreaking I can't believe I never thought of it before.”

 

Margaery felt the corners of her mouth creep up at her grandmother's display. Though she did care for her cousins, she found their repetitiveness tiring.

 

“Well Margaery it appears your father is more amenable to your betrothal now that Ned Stark is to be the hand, though he still seems bitter that you are not to be the queen" Olenna scoffed at her son's idiocy, "sure it may be easy to get the drunkard to set aside his wife but even then you would only be wedded to a dead man walking" 

 

Ah yes, the plot of her father's devising that was actually brought to him by Loras who had been advised by Renly. Her father's genius in action.

 

Hee grandmother appeared peeved at Maces obtrusive ideas- even more so than usual, "oh and by the way, their eldest daughter is to be sent here to ward.”

 

“I know grandmother” Olenna simply raised one eyebrow in question at Margaery, “she sent me a letter, she seems lovely”

 

Obviously not a good enough explanation as her grandmother continued to stare in silence, one eyebrow raised in a way that makes even the most powerful lords tremble, willing her to continue.

 

She wrung her hands together as she thought of what to say, “and well, uh. Robb also wrote a letter to me.”

 

“Ah now, dear girl when we're you planning on telling me that?” Her grandmother seemed gleeful at her admission “is he enraptured already then? I never would have taken him to fall for you at the mere mention of a betrothal.”  Olenna chuckled to herself and popped a fig into her mouth and stared out into the garden, Margaery could tell the cogs were already whirring in her head. 

 

“I didn't want to say anything yet, his letter is only at the insistence at his father. He just doesn't want us to be strangers on our wedding day” Margaery was loath to admit that she was somewhat enamoured with the northerner, growing up she had been told to grin and bear it in regards to her husband. 

 

She knew it was silly to care and that he would be just like the stories her grandmother had told her of men who saw their wives as broodmares or as ornaments to be rolled out at feasts.

 

“Well no matter, if you can enamour his sister you are one step closer to capturing the wolf.” her grandmother leaned closer, staring into what Margaery felt to be her very soul and with a deep sigh of exasperation spoke, “the Starks love saying the pack survives, so my dear you better make yourself part of their pack.”

 

She nodded as best she could with the weight of her family's future on her shoulders.

 

And then she was left alone once more. 

 

It would have been easier to charm her way around the false Baratheon prince. All that would be needed would be a slight touch of his shoulder and a well-placed smile and the throne would fall right into her hands. But then there is the gossip of his unquenched cruelty which though she might be able to tame, what was she to do if her one day turned to her? 

 

And not just that, but his mother would rather see her dead than married to her precious son. If the rumours are true about what she gets up to with her twin brother who knows what she would do with her prized son to keep the bloodline ‘pure’.

 

Margaery let out a chuckle at the irony of the situation, Robert usurped the throne of the mad king only to marry a madder queen who shared a taste for incest. 

 

As funny as it was she knew that it would only spell bad things for the seven kingdoms, the threadbare peace that had held since the rebellion would soon be torn asunder

 

Her worry grows stronger and as she monotonously stitches her wolf she accidentally pricks her finger while stitching the neckline of the beast. A bubble of blood spurts, leaving a blooming trail of Lannister red across its throat.

 

All her hard work for nothing.

 

Perhaps though, she could cover up the stain with something. It really would be a shame to leave it all to waste. And so she picks her needle back up and reaches for an assortment of blue thread and begins to stitch a chain of roses to hide the damage. She could fix the bloody mistake.

 

Soon enough her skill and deft fingers have completely covered the unseemly stain. Leaving in their wake a proud wolf with a garland of winter roses proclaiming it victor.

 

The North would be unlike the temperate climate of the Reach, their gods are not like the seven she was raised with. But, Margaery felt certain that she would love the north and the feeling would be mutual.

 

* * *

** Catelyn **

 

Catelyn believed she was a peaceful woman, she never took up arms, she abhorred war having already lived through one (and a failed Greyjoy rebellion but she didn't really count that) yet the past few weeks have had her harmonious disposition becoming increasingly hostile.

 

First, there is the letter from her sister who has perhaps gone mad with grief (not that she would ever outwardly say that but she can't help but wonder if her sister is entirely all there) claiming her husband has been assassinated. Then there is the letter from Olenna Tyrell inciting treason! But then, on a happier note her firstborn son was now to be wed to the ‘Rose of the Reach’.

 

But just when she thinks everything is fine, Ned decides to send her only daughters across the country. Highgarden, while far is acceptable to a lady of Sansa's constitution but he had the audacity to send Arya to bear island to train at war with those barbarians! 

It doesn't bear thinking about.

 

The Mormont’s may be sworn to house stark but she is a Tully through and through, no matter how surrounded by the ‘old ways’ of the ‘old gods’ in the North she remained steadfast in her faith of the seven. Why couldn't Ned have at least sent her to foster with the Manderly’s? They were a dedicated bannerman and were raised in the seven.

 

She just didn't see the point of sending her already a rather coarse and unrefined daughter to an insignificant island to become learned in the art or war. Catelyn despaired, how would she ever find a husband for her rambunctious daughter.

 

But for ned to add to insult to injury, he finally deigns it time to reveal that not only has he been lying to her all these years to her about who his bastard son’s mother was but then to reveal he is not the father. After fifteen years of scorn from the rest of Westeros as they jest about the one woman who could make the ‘honourable’ Ned stark break his vows.

 

She is incensed! She had bruskly left the solar after the divulgence of his secret. She found herself unable to speak to him in anything other than expected courtesies.

 

It was in some way a relief to know that he had not broken his vows to her but the sting of his lies remains. She felt as though no time had passed at all since he brought the babe home declaring him ‘Jon snow’ his ‘natural son’ and the contempt she felt for him at that display.

 

Alone she was left after one betrothed had been murdered then after being married for nary a day he off and leaves her to fight in his best friends war and to find a place between some whores thighs.

 

His abstinence didn't make up for the stain that he made on their marriage, Jon will always be seen as 'the Bastard of Winterfell' and she will always be the devoted Tully wife keeping her family words of 'family, duty, honour' to make up for her husband's public indiscretions. She's been sat alone in her solar all morning staring out over the Winterfell until Rickon ambles in with a shout of "MAMA!" 

 

At least he wasn't going anywhere. 

 

"Come here my sweet boy" she knelt down to scoop up her baby boy into her arms

 

With everything that’s happening she feels as though she has nobody to turn too, nobody to speak with about all her feelings and to give her advice on how to cope.

 

She cannot very well go to her sister who may have just accused the Lannister’s of treason while also grieving for her husband, but she could always rely on her loyal friend Petyr. Yes, she may just write to him, she could  _ him _ of what had been revealed at Winterfell but perhaps a friendly voice of reason could help her calm down from the theatrics of current household life.

 

Rickon wriggled on her lap as she searched for parchment but soon her letter writing got underway.

 

_ Dear Petyr, _

 

_ It has been entirely too long since we last spoke. I worry for my sister, you are the only person in  Kingslanding I trust and the only person I know who would look out for her. Please tell me how she was before she left…. _

* * *

 

**Robb**

Seeing off his brother and his youngest sister dealt him a blow. Robb had no idea what he would miss until he saw it slowly disappear into the Wolfswood. Even Sansa had been brought to tears at the departure of her sister- though it could just as easily have been to the mud that had been tracked onto her dress.

 

All in all, Sansa was acting unnervingly un-Sansa like. In fact, everything since those letters arrived felt eerie, like his family was about to be irreparably changed. 

 

Gods he was becoming just like Jon.

 

But still, the lack of normality was something Robb felt he would have to embrace, these changes were things he would need to adapt too if war were to come as his father suggested. He left the training field with a longing look at the broken tower where Bran was freely climbing. A lack of responsibilities and a disregard to consequences, something that Robb would never have again if he were to become the lord of Winterfell (gods forbid if his father died). 

 

He found his way to the Godswood, the only place of true solace to be found among the cacophony of madness that his siblings brought with them, for even they would never dare to disturb the peace of their gods.

 

Well, apparently except for Sansa.

 

She meandered in holding two letters with a giddy expression- a direct contrast to earlier.

 

“Its arrived!” she called out, not letting him even ask what it was, “Margaery! She wrote back”

 

Oh yes. His betrothed. How did he forget about that?

 

“Well… are you going to give me the letter?” Sansa appeared lost in a daydream of flowery knights or something else of a similar ilk to actually reply.

 

“Sansa!” maybe she was purposely withholding the letter from him.

 

Oh gods, what if she had already read it. He didn't know Margaery that well yet but surely some things had to be kept between betrothed.

 

Sansa began skirting around the trees with his letter until finally, Robb managed to rip it from her grasp and moved swiftly to sit by the heart tree and open it.

 

Pulling the letter out hastily he almost missed the rose petal that fell out, but Sansa spied it and cooed that “it was just like a song”

 

Growing a little more frustrated at this fiasco Robb “Sansa leave!” he whined frustratedly. Once she left and he was free of her childish fantasies of fair maidens and knights he finally read the letter.

 

Somehow he keenly felt her presence yet he had never met her, perhaps it was the scent of roses that accompanied the letter bringing out his fanciful imagination but he just _ knew she was there. _

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, on the other side of Westeros. Margaery sat alone in her own Godswood of Highgarden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I've had exams! hopefully, I'll get back into a schedule of posting on Mondays now that I'm free.
> 
> (also because I suffer from dumb bitch disease I ended up incorporating old Irish folklore and language into the north and the old gods since its said to be Celtic in fashion. this meant I tried to brush up on my Irish but eventually had to awkwardly ask an acquaintance of mine to go over my translations)
> 
> (by an acquaintance I mean my friend's ex)
> 
> Please comment down below it is much appreciated!


	4. Of Royalty and Rabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A royal arrival causes disruptions in Winterfell as they find themselves at odds with their visitors.

**Arya POV**

Three days on the road and Jon had said nary a word to Arya, which she did not like one bit. And yet none of her usual attempts to fuel conversation would work. It appeared that Jon had run off and left in his place a very convincing Jon look-alike, who happened to be a silent septon.

 

If so, the forgery was quite amazing; he even had Jon’s tortured soul-stare down pat.

 

“Psst,” she whispered to him.

 

He said nothing.

 

“Psst… Jon.”

 

Yet he was silent.

 

“Jon...”

 

This time she brought her horse close to his, trotting along side by side with Jon’s colt.

 

“JON!”

 

This time, a few of the riders accompanying them turned to stare in shock or hastily scour the perimeter in case of a wildling attack.

 

“What, cat got your tongue?” she prodded. A sudden realisation came upon her when she saw Jon tense under her scrutiny. “Oh Gods! Cat really did get your tongue? What did you do to annoy mother so much?”

 

His steely resolve seemed to break at her ridiculous outburst, but at that stage, Arya had already been carried away with ideas of her ruthless mother. “Oh, never mind,” she conceded, moving ahead in the convoy.

* * *

** Ned POV **

A rider rushed to the main hall where Ned Stark was sat, listening to requests.

 

"Milord, Baratheon and Lannister banners have been spotted in the distance. It is a sizeable levy, Milord. The scouts reckon they are but a day’s ride away."

 

_ Oh, fuck.  _ He was supposed to have more time. They weren't supposed to arrive for at least a sennight, so that Jon and Arya would be long gone upon their arrival.

 

Catelyn locked eyes with him from across the hall. She shared his look of unbridled fear- they had no time to set the rest of their plans in motion. He would have to leave to become Hand, and Robert would demand his daughter's hand for his son. Presumed son.

 

He stood up from his ancestral throne and spoke to the smallfolk who had congregated.

 

“Good people, I thank you for your time, but unfortunately I must conclude our meeting early in order to prepare for His Grace the King’s arrival. You are all welcome to return tomorrow.”

 

Cheers and jeers mixed in the hall, but for the most part, the farmers, peddlers and other petitioners shuffled out in an orderly fashion. As people exited the hall, Catelyn hurriedly rushed to Ned’s side and with as much grace as possible- as to not alert any stragglers or guards of her worry- she said:

 

“How wonderful it must be for you to reacquaint yourself with His Grace sooner than expected... I only worry that the household is ill-prepared for their early arrival."

 

"Aye,” he concurred, stroking his chin. “We may have to send out for a hunt in haste, in order to stock our stores." 

 

Ned reckoned Robert would never pass up a hunt, and would leave for it as soon as he arrived; he could only hope he would be able to distract the King from asking for Sansa’s hand or questioning the disappearance of half his household.

 

"Yes, I think we may," agreed Cat, nodding. Ned stood up, stretching his back and taking her arm. With a quick grin, he led her to the solar and called for two servants to send for the youngsters, as well as Theon and Loras.

 

As they strolled through the halls, Catelyn spoke up.

 

"I hesitate to say this, but I think we may have to increase our guard."

 

"The same thought has crossed my mind," Ned nodded, opening the door to the solar for her. "We can't trust these Lannisters not to try anything out of order." His cold Stark temperament kept him with a lingering distrust of the blond southerners.

 

Slowly, the young Starks, Theon, and Loras assembled. Last to enter was Theon, who entered the room looking rather dour. Had he been interrupted? Regardless, Ned set about explaining their current situation.

 

"I suppose you all are aware of the recent changes that have come about with the death of Jon Arryn, and the impending arrival of the King. It appears we’re expecting them quite a bit earlier than we thought, and so we must not, under any circumstances, provoke them into suspicion."

 

“How soon?” asked Robb.

 

“Within a day,” answered Ned, grimacing. “Possibly in the evening tomorrow.”

 

"I owe it to Robert to be loyal,” Ned continued. “I swore an oath."

 

"Yes,” Catelyn spoke up. “An oath you did not swear to the Lannisters.”

 

Ned sighed. He couldn't fault her there, but he felt uneasy making base accusations against his best friend's wife. It was a difficult situation.

 

Loras Tyrell seemed awkward- he turned to Robb and whispered, “Should I be here?” Far more loudly than he would have wanted, apparently, as the Stark children turned their heads to glance at him.

 

“Without your shrewd grandmother we would be at a disadvantage, Loras,” Ned reassured him. “And either way, we are to be family now.” 

 

With his affirmation, Loras became more at ease, and gave Theon a subtle once-over- while Robb blushed to his ears at the reference to his betrothal.

 

Ned’s daughter Sansa was intently staring at Loras, who was undoubtedly the epitome of her girlish fantasies... but he, in turn, was staring at Theon. She glanced over to Theon, who appeared unaware.

 

_ Well, that’s certainly something, _ she thought to herself.

 

Theon, who was very oblivious to the looks he was receiving eventually spoke up. 

 

“You said earlier that King Robert wants a betrothal for Sansa. How are we going to stop that?”  _ Ah, yes. _ Ned had expected someone might bring this up. This, the most pressing issue that loomed over them like a spider preying above its hapless victim.

 

Ned was wondering the same thing “hopefully I can buy us time to find Sansa a betrothed or I may have to just refuse and accept the consequences.” he doesn't want to rush a betrothal but he also doesn't wish to anger his oldest friend and yet it appears he has no other choice.

 

“After they arrive, we can never meet up like this again,” Catelyn took the opportunity to say to him. “If you see or hear anything suspicious, just come straight to me, or your father.”

 

“I know you northerners don’t care for southern politics,” interjected Loras, glancing around the room. “But I'd advise you not to trust those in your household… that is, I mean to say, not too much. Many people can overlook their honour for a gold dragon or two.”

 

“Nobody would dare to so disrespect their liege lord,” Robb turned to Loras. “They have more respect than that.”

 

“You  _ assume _ they have respect,” replied Loras. “There are some who would sell you out soon as they could. You can't say that you haven’t managed to annoy somebody, can you? That there are no ancient grievances waiting to rear their ugly heads?”

 

Robb’s face reddened in anger. The insinuation that their bannermen would be turncloaks rattled him to his core. 

 

“They would never!” he hotly declared, standing up sharply. His senses were overwhelmed by pride, and his unwavering honour. “The North Remembers. They love and respect father, as they should. I won’t have the likes of you try to educate us northern folk about what respect is.”  

 

To his right, Ned heard Catelyn murmur: “Like father, like son.” He felt pride in his son and heir welling up inside him.  _ That’s my boy _ . If something were to happen, at least he knew the North would be in safe hands.

  
  


“Forewarned is forearmed.”

 

Surprisingly, it was Sansa who spoke up. She had seemed unusually quiet to Robb, and to hear her support for this notion temporarily stalled him from dismissing the idea entirely.

 

Loras appeared to notice his hesitation and took the opportunity to continue. “At least have some trusted maids or servants keep watch of them. They won't expect you to distrust them, so they will be careless. It may not be honourable, but it will keep you safe.” Ned had to agree. His honour meant nothing if it cost the lives of his family. It was easy for him to tell Loras had been raised at the knee of the Queen of Thorns.

 

_ Gods help Robb if his future wife is strong-minded and willful like him _ , Ned thought to himself.  _ She’d run rings around him and Robb would worship the ground she walked on. _

 

“I know a few kitchen maids who know how to be discreet,” interjected Theon, trying to stake a place in the conversation.

 

At that, everyone in the room turned their eyes to him. Robb looked incredulous. “You've never been discreet in your life, Theon,” said Sansa coldly. “And you know it.”

 

* * *

**Sansa POV**

Sansa found herself torn between excitement and terror at the imminent arrival of the crown prince. He was said to be very handsome but she was worried. The king would want a betrothal between her and his son. Except he wasn't his son.

 

How do you say no to a king?

 

At times like this, she wishes she could be more like her sister. She skirted around Arya’s room, pacing in her frustration. If only she could somehow repel the Prince's advances without getting in trouble with the queen and her mother.

 

Why did Arya have to leave? If she was here she would have insulted him, pushed him into the dirt, stuck Nymeria on him and called it a day. 

 

Her hands began fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves of their own accord, desperate for something to ease her anxious mind, when she finally spotted the banners- and what arrived behind them.

 

The prince would have been very handsome if not for the predatory stare he had; his eyes were the brightest emerald green, and looked akin to how she imagined wildfire looked from the stories Old Nan would tell her. 

 

His eyes swept the yard, searching until they landed on her. An overwhelming sense of dread came over Sansa. He grinned like the cat who got the cream and she was the Canary for the next course.

 

Even the king made her uncomfortable.

 

“Aren't you a pretty one?" A stench of Dornish red permeated from him and, she struggled to not recoil from him as he drew closer to her.

 

* * *

ROBB POV

 

With the gates of Winterfell open, the Stark household (and about everyone from Winterfell to Last Hearth appearing to be crowding the gates) lined up to greet the royal family.

 

The crowned stag banners appeared first. Robb always thought that it looked more like the stag was being strangled by gold than wearing a crown. What was surprising was that there seemed to be almost an equal amount of Lannister banners. In fact, there might even be more?  _ They have opened their doors to the stags, yet the lions have crawled in,  _ he thought to himself.

 

He knew that he would once have been excited for such activity in Winterfell- and to meet the King and his Kingsguard would have been a dream come true- yet Robb could only feel resentment at it. For it is  _ their fault _ his uncle is dead, It's  _ their fault _ his father must go south and it is  _ their fault _ that house Stark must bear the burden of their folly.

 

The royal carriage arrived, preceded by the King and Crown Prince. The King's horse looked hardly fit to bear his weight while the prince appeared to be barely in control of his destrier. Not quite the royal entrance he expected, though not lacking in pompousness. The carriage that followed was gilded with more gold than he could ever hope to amass in his life.

 

What a waste of wealth and frivolity.

 

Joffrey- he presumed- had a sneer painted on his baby face, as though he believed his mere presence was undeserved in the north. 

 

_ Prick. _

 

The King, meanwhile, was not yet off his horse, though not for lack of trying. His face was as red as his wife's banners as he huffed and puffed in exertion.

 

It was hard to believe that this was the man who had killed Rhaegar at the Trident. Seven hells, it was hard to believe he was even fit to stand! And yet, here he had co-opted a rebellion in Lyannas name and crowned himself King.

 

The Stark family bowed in the presence of King Robert, as the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms trudged over and stood in front of Ned. Robb followed suit, his knee in deference to the king- his father did speak highly of him. 

 

Robb’s father spoke up. “Your Grace,” he said reverently. Robert nodded, and beckoned Ned to stand and face him. He stared at the Lord of Winterfell for a long moment, coldly and bitterly. Robb could see the deep emotion in the King’s face.

 

“You got fat.” 

 

A few looks were exchanged around the court. Catelyn awkwardly glanced at her son, who locked eyes with her, but for a moment, as if to convey a mutual sense of uncertainty.

 

Robb wrestled with himself not to let his shock show clearly on his face. He turned his eyes to his father for guidance, and was met with his cocked eyebrow along with the smirk that threatened to spill across his face at the irony. Ned briefly looked down at Robert’s girth, then back up, raising an eyebrow at the massive King. The message was received on both parts.

 

Suddenly, both men burst out laughing, and embraced each other like comrades. The older men in the crowd smiled and laughed, clearly having expected no other outcome. Robert gave his old friend a mighty pat, and turned to his wife. “Cat!” he exclaimed, giving her a warm hug. Catelyn replied with a polite “Your Grace,” standing still as Robert let go and patted young Rickon’s head.

 

“ Nine years!” exclaimed Robert, walking back to Ned. “Why have I not seen you? Where the hell have you been?”

 

_ In the North, not that you care, _ Robb thought in frustration. He couldn’t yet tell if the King’s abrasive mannerisms were indicative of his ugly personality, or a facade masking deep affection for his closest friend.

 

**“** Guarding the North for you, Your Grace,” replied Ned in turn. “Winterfell is yours.”

 

Robb’s thinking was interrupted by a pat on the shoulder from the King.

 

**“** And who have we here?” The King gave him an inquisitive look. “You must be Robb.”

 

Finally, the door to the carriage opened by a timid squire and out popped the queen. By the Gods, the tales of her beauty were true albeit hindered with age- and the fact she appeared to have sucked a lemon. Truly the apple didn't fall far from the tree in respect to Joffrey. Following her were two golden-haired children dressed up in Lannister regalia, waddling after their mother like little ducklings.

 

Theirs was obviously not the “fury”, nor could he _hear their roar_. Perhaps a quack or mewl, the latter of which only gave more credence to their true heritage.

 

As Robert spoke to each of them, he did his best to be as cordial as possible- which turned out to be incredibly difficult. The king announced to the entire courtyard: "Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects," to the shock and ire of his wife.

 

Cersei with a pained smile, spoke up. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely, the dead can wait." But from the first look at Robert’s solemn countenance, it was clear there was no changing his mind, and so with a curt nod to the Queen Consort, Robb’s father made way to lead the King to Lyanna's grave. This left the rest of the courtyard in a rather awkward position, as minor nobles and courtiers made haste to introduce themselves to each other.

 

Funnily enough, both the Queen and Joffrey only lingered in the presence of Sansa. He could see her stiffen at the attention bestowed on her that normally she would preen at. There is something definitely wrong and if Joffrey continues to stare at his sister like a piece of meat he may just have to challenge the crown prince.

 

Looking at the poncy sword at his waist and skinny arms their spar should be over quickly 

 

But immediately sought out her brother. If they were this blatant in public how have they even managed to keep it a secret?

 

Once they had finally left he felt Sansa release her breath and he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of sympathy to his sister. He may have to ask Theon to keep an eye on her so the prince won't try anything.

* * *

** Tyrion POV **

The king had gone hunting for the first few days of their arrival, which meant that it had been relatively peaceful, he spent his time in the frigid north in the well-stocked library of Winterfell and equally so in the not so frigid whore houses of Wintertown.

 

Yet now, Tyrion found himself wishing that he had stayed in the Northern whore house instead of staying in the royal rooms to await the arrival of the king, and by extension, the anger of Cersei of her husband’s return-though Jaime was at least a balm to her anger.

 

 The Lannister party had congregated in the rooms befitting of their royal stature.  _ A stature which seems to have overlooked me entirely _ .

 

Though lying in the bosom of that red-haired whore Ros?  whatever her name may be, her ample breasts would be a nicer place to be stuck in than with his family... And on the topic of whores, his sister stopped combing through Tommen’s Golden curls and nearly absentmindedly  _ though still pointedly  _ she said, “I suppose she seems civilised for a Northerner” Cersei's snark broke through the silence.

  
  


“Yes.” spoke up Joffrey though the glint in his eyes worried Tyrion “she does seem rather pretty”. 

 

The silence following his declaration only seemed to make the temperature of the room drop considerably, almost to what he expected the North to feel like without the fires and pelts they were surrounded by to keep their southern frames warm.

 

 The young Stark girl didn't seem as obsessed with tales of princes as he'd been told if anything she seemed wary. Which, with seeing his nephew's predatory glare towards the girl seemed wise.

 

Shame she was to marry the little sadist.

 

“Sansa isn't it? I suppose at least there's a consolation that Joffrey is not marrying the younger girl, we would have a female Ned Stark as queen.”

 

“Oh gods don't let Robert hear that or he'll take my other son from me”

 

Myrcella, the little darling was sat at her mother's feet playing with a doll that was the spitting image of her mother. Gods Cersei's narcissism knows no bounds does it? But still, she remained almost blissfully unaware of their current conversation, at least until Jaime said the girl's name. 

 

“I quite like Arya and Sansa”

 

Perhaps one of Cersei’s children was actually Roberts if Myrcella shared his love for the starks. That would be a laugh, almost one to rival the glare Cersei shot her own daughter.

 

“Of course my love, but are they suitable to marry your gallant older brother and become the Queen of the seven kingdoms.”

 

Oh, he would not envy to be in that poor girl's position, she carelessly overlooked her brother's violent stare and answered “I don’t think he’s suitable to marry them, they are much too nice and don’t steal my toys. In fact, Lady Sansa gifted me this doll”

 

Anger rose up in Joffrey and his familial roots became clear as the Lannister red broke out in his face. “HOW DARE YOU!” I AM THE FUTURE KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS AND YOU SHALL BOW BEFORE YOUR KING.” 

 

Shock registered on Cersei's face as blatant as could be, she was torn between agreeing with her son's proclamation and stopping him from tearing her other ‘precious’ children apart.

 

They certainly were a pride of lions, though pride tends to go before the fall. And what a mighty fall from grace they shall have if they can't get Joffrey to shut up.

 

Little Tommen, who like Myrcella had been sitting quietly among the mayhem that was their family then said, “But you're not king yet though.” Which, obviously was correct and he couldn't fault him for the blatant truth that came with childlike innocence but it appears Joffrey could.

 

As Joffrey geared up to start a tirade on his two younger siblings, while Cersei fluttered bedroom eyes at Jaime and Jaime looked utterly bored out of his mind. The door nearly broke off with the force of Roberts anger. 

 

“HE WON’T ACCEPT THE BETROTHAL! I AM HIS KING AND OLDEST FRIEND YET HE REFUSES TO GIVE JOFFREY HIS DAUGHTER HAND. HE REFUSES TO UNITE OUR FAMILIES LIKE THEY SHOULD HAVE DONE YEARS AGO.”

 

Great. He's bringing up Lyanna again. Cersei's is going to _ love that. _

 

“There are people who would become kinslayers just to see their daughter married to the crown prince and he thinks he can refuse his king?” _ Jaime, you may make some valid points but you're also known as a kingslayer and as much as I care for you I’d have rather you kept your mouth shut to the king. _

 

“They would dare disrespect me? Do they think they're too good for me?? That she is to good for me??”  “I'll show them where that ginger whore belongs”

 

At that Tyrion couldn't help but say “perhaps that's why they refused,” or rather perhaps word had got out about what Joffrey’s cruel proclivities which given the circumstances it was perfectly reasonable for Lord stark to refuse the betrothal. Tyrion found that even as the boy's uncle he found him difficult to tolerate, truly a boy only his mother could love.

 

“Just betroth Robb to Myrcella, she's not that much younger than him”

 

“She's a child!”

 

Robert seemed to have already tried that tactic, “He's already betrothed to Margaery Tyrell” Myrcella seemed a tad disappointed at that, perhaps she found herself enamoured with the heir to Winterfell.

 

His Tully genes must greatly overpower the dourness of the Stark look for such a bright young girl to even entertain the idea of leaving warmth to hole herself up here in the barren north. Or perhaps he was just like gallant knights she had been told about.

 

In fact, she also seemed rather taken with Loras Tyrell as well. A shame to be fair to the girl, she wasn't to know that while he did like Baratheon’s he just happened to prefer sword swallowing.

 

Speaking of the Tyrell’s why is it that we have the knight of flowers in our midst? Anybody else find that unusual?” Jaime asked, perhaps his diplomacy wasn't completely forgotten.

 

“He's to escort Lady Sansa to Highgarden under the presumption she will fall madly in love with Willas. Damn his blasted honour, he has already given his word and won't renege no matter what  _ his _ King orders him”

 

Cersei who had just moments ago disregarded the entire Stark family as she didn't want to  _ sully  _ her line with them now seems to be incensed that  _ they _ don't want her  _ precious son _ to marry  _ their daughter  _  “They would refuse their King for some grain? For a grand and noble house, they are little more than low born peasants playing at being lords”

 

“Don't you dare insult the starks in my presence” Robert bellowed raising his arm to slap Cersei

 

Sensings the upcoming fiasco that was about to break out he tried to avert the harsh slap that was coming towards his sister “Well, what about the other girl? They have another daughter don't they?” 

 

Cersei's face was flushed red and her eyes brimmed with tears she refused to cry, “Who’s even more boyish than their sons and utterly unsuitable to marry Joffrey or Tommen”  _ ah _ the mother lion protecting her cubs, if only she would stop provoking Robert and he might have some peace for once.

 

“Aryas not here right now, shes away fighting bears on an island,” Myrcella interrupted, once again perking up at the name of someone she knew and momentarily stopped playing with her doll “at least that was what Lady Sansa said anyway.” Robert, at this stage, had calmed down somewhat and scooped his daughter into his lap, perhaps her defending the starks endeared her to him.

 

Joffrey scoffed in disgust at the mention of the other stark girl, “You would have my wife to be a manly whore who thinks too highly of herself?”   _ Gods _ if only that idiot would shut his mouth.

 

“Be quiet Joffrey! Your mother will find you another match, most parents would kill for the chance for their daughter to be your bride.” Tyrion found himself having to mediate his nephew once again, “ Who cares if it's not a Stark.”

 

“NO! I came here to have the hand of little lady Sansa Stark and I shall have Sansa Stark”

 

With the madness that had been breaking out here, it necessarily the wildest statement or even the most disparaging but nevertheless, it still brought a sliver of ice into him. If Joffrey insulted the Starks there would be no going back. The last time a crown prince took a shine to a stark girl it ended in a rebellion and the usurpation of the crown, which while it worked out for his family then, he doesn't fancy their chances again.

 

Really it was quite a shame that none of them seemed to notice the gasp that came from outside the room. They were all too busy with themselves to stop a concerned maid running off.

* * *

** Catelyn POV **

She softly brushed Sansa’s hair, something that would usually bring her great joy only brought about a fragile sense of calm that threatened to break at a moments notice.

 

The southern etiquette she grew up with and she instilled in her children feels stifling when faced with the Lannisters. Courtesy wouldn't save her daughter from their barbarity, cordial smiles and polite words mean nothing to them. 

 

Words are wind and while honour rules in the North, it does not rule with the king's arrival. 

 

“Sweetling is everything alright?” she had excused the normal handmaids as she wished to spend more time with Sansa before she left but also because some of them had been entrusted with keeping an eye out. 

 

She heard a quick rap at the door, so she placed the ornate pearl inlaid brush on Sansa's vanity before placing a quick kiss to her daughter's forehead. She stood up, fixed her dress to make herself presentable and went to open the door where she now faced with a rather panicked handmaiden who stuttered out “Uh-erm, my Lady, I overheard something from the Royal rooms”

 

Catelyn poked her head out towards the corridor making sure there was not anyone there before ushering the maid in to hear what she had to say.

* * *

** Sansa POV **

Sansa found to her dismay, that no matter where she went she was being followed by the prince. She had taken to staying almost entirely indoors sewing with Septa Mordane and when she went to the Godswoods to pray she would ask her brothers or Theon to accompany her- as well, of course, lady.

 

But even that did not seem to push away the prince, he would sit in on her sewing circles- though whether that was due to his mother's presence there or hers was unclear. he would repeatedly offer to escort her around a turn of the glass gardens but either her mother or her Septa would interrupt that thought before he could finish it due to it’s “impropriety” to her comfort.

 

She wasn't sure what it was about the young prince that unnerved her, but nevertheless, she was thankful for her families intrusion. But overall she felt suffocated in her own home, the sights of her home were marred with banners of lions and stags cavorting about the place, which meant that when Theon proposed a jaunt out in the Wolfswood over breakfast to the others she was quick to ask if she could come.

 

The look of shock and the fact Theon choked on his tankard of brown ale in response to how out of her mind she'd been driven. Thankfully her parents were busy talking the King and Queen so she was blissfully saved from her mother's outrage but not from the barrage of questions flew at her from every direction.

 

“Really Sansa? You know you will have to wear breeches?”

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

“Does this mean you're like Arya now?”

 

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

 

“Where is the Sansa who would faint at the idea of partaking in such an unladylike activity, especially when there is a queen to embroider with and a prince to fawn over?”

 

She airily lifted her teacup to her lips and daintily blew upon the top of her mint tea to cool down before taking a sip. 

 

Sighing, she spread blackberry jam on the fresh bread from the kitchen and with quiet confidence said “I don’t know what you mean,” took a bite of her bread and continued “I am perfectly well”. Leaving a confused table before her, but having a Joffrey free morning would be worth it even if it meant forsaking propriety for a moment. 

 

Maester Luwin arrived in the hall and approached Robb to pass on letters and then went to her mother and called her out. 

 

That's odd.

 

Her eyes followed her mother's path through the hall to the side door there was one of the maids who her parents had instructed to watch over the royal quarters. 

 

Perhaps something had come from it. Her parents might be very thankful for Loras’s insight now, and perhaps they might seek a betrothal between them!

Ever since those letters from Highgarden had arrived she had been enamoured with the young Lord Loras, he was so gallant and handsome. It really was enough to make any young girl swoon but Sansa was going to use this opportunity to get closer to the Knight of Flowers.

* * *

 

Robb POV

 

As Theon saddled Smiler Robb found himself thinking over the letter he’d received that morning. 

 

The arrival of the letter had come with an aroma of roses. Which shouldn't have excited him such and yet he found a warmth spread over him that wasn't due to his furs.

Once breakfast had concluded he has sped up to his room to prepare for the ride- but also to read the letter.

 

Swiftly closing the door and reaching over to his desk where his letter opener had been stashed as a bookmark for the book  _ the Rulers of the Reach _ that laid there.

 

They had already passed numerous letters from the announcement of their betrothal and so the sight of the now familiar green wax seal rose didn't serve as an ill omen of his betrothal but a reprieve from the banality of the everyday.

 

_ Dear Robb, _

_ I don't know how to explain the sheer joy your letter gave me. _

_ Though I was raised in the light of the seven I have come to appreciate the old gods though I would love to hear more and since we last spoke I have been spending more time at the Godswood upon your advice, it is as peaceful as you described. I don't think I have told you of the Weirwoods of Highgarden, I don't imagine they are as imposing as those in Winterfell but it is quite magnificent; three Weirwoods entwined together making them appear to be just one. Lovingly referred to as the three singers.  _

 

_ One day, I would love to take you there to see it.  _

 

_ I just have so many questions for you but I suppose you shall be busy entertaining your royal guest so I must wait impatiently for your lovely sister's arrival to satisfy my curiosity. _

 

_ Until your next letter, _

_ Yours truly, _

_ Margaery Tyrell. _

 

Shaking the romantic notions out of his head he resumed tending to his horse. Though he was feeling lighter than he had felt for the past few days- whether that was due to the fresh air, the letter, or, the fact that there had been interruptions from the  _ crown prick  _ today. 

 

As though by merely invoking his name in her head he appears. Gilded to kingdom come with a highly impractical cloak, a red woollen doublet studded with a double row of golden stags with black leather trousers- as befits the royal heir. And at his side lies a longsword far too large for a boy of his age that he proudly refers to as ‘Lion Tooth’ and an infinite ability to annoy him.

 

“Lady Sansa!” Joffrey quickly reaches out to grasp Sansa’s wrist as to lay a kiss upon her knuckles. His actions rough and forced where they should be soft and charming. “What are you doing out today? Shouldn't you be up with mother stitching?” Joffrey's harsh gaze raked over her body before fixating on the old breeches Robb had given to Sansa to ride in.

 

Nudging Theon he pointed toward Joffrey, he felt his blood slowly boiling that this  _ bastard  _ would dare to be so bold to his sister. It appears Theon was even more incensed as he rushed over placing himself between them, using his height to intimidate the cowardly prince

 

“What lady Sansa is doing is none of your business”

 

“Be quiet pirate scum” bold words for a boy who is half the size and if he was optimistic of his chances- half the strength. 

 

A situation that would normally bring a smile to his face he felt dread build up as the hound made his presence known in the yard and his hand fingered the pommel of his greatsword.

 

Robb really didn't want to see Theon dead because of the Prince's foolishness and as he rushed to hold Theon back from gutting the blonde git, Loras piped up and suggested: “well why don't you join us on our ride to the Wolfswood?”  _ Loras why did you have to do that?  _

 

“The prince has other duties to attend to today” a stoic hound replied.

 

“Ready to piss yourself over the scary wolves that inhabit the haunted Wolfswood? or are you just a cowardly lion” Theon must really want his head cut off cause there is no other explanation as to why he would provoke the short-tempered prince to fight, or, in this case, getting their very tall guard dog to fight for him.

 

The spoilt prince bristled “Dog! I don't need your input! Go back to my mother and tell her that I shall be riding this morning” and then stropped off, his poncy cloak billowing calling for servants to ready his saddle.

 

And so that settled it. Their small party of Sansa, Theon, Loras and himself now stretched to include the Prince and his ego.

 

_ Oh Gods, could today get any worse? _

  
As he found out a few miles into the Wolfswood,  _ yes it could. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IM LATE!!! ive been doing a lot of work recently for uni prep so that's fun! I will try and get the next chapter out in a more timely manner.
> 
> Comment below on whether you think I should cripple bran, as I, the author, will invoke the spirit of Tonya Harding if needed.
> 
> (or just leave comments anyway)


	5. Words for Wildlings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ride around the forest turned into a hunt which then turned into something else entirely.

~Robbs POV~

What was supposed to be a peaceful ride through the Wolfwood was steadily becoming a game of who could catch the most game. Theon had taken out a boar, as according to him, “they may as well while they were there” and so they found themselves on a hunt but without any way to carry their scores or in the case of Loras, without a way to catch them.

 

“I'm much better at hawking. I swear on the old Gods and the new!” though that only met with goading from Theon. 

 

Of course, that didn't stop them all from attempting to outdo each other in their catches, he had caught a stag and a badger, Loras had caught a fox, even Sansa had caught a rabbit- albeit with the help of Lady but it was only Joffrey who was yet to catch anything.

 

Like the petulant child, he was he whinged “It's not fair! All of you have your beasts to do your bidding! I am a prince I don't cavort with animals to do my bidding!”

 

“Yeah, cause you to have people to do that” Robb murmured under his breath only Theon was able to hear him and attempted to stifle a snort at the prince's expense.

 

Lady and Greywind began to get antsy as they circled the group with their hackles raised. They probably just were annoyed at the prince like the rest of them were he whistled at the direwolves to come over and threw part of his spoils to them.

 

“Stark! That better not be my rabbit!” Loras shouted over at him, the grin that broke out across his face revealing he wasn't serious, that and his wink. 

 

 Though Joffrey didn't seem to get that. “Yeah, Stark! Don't waste the goods on your mongrels!”

 

“Well unless  _ your highness _ would like to carry back a more ferocious stag than you'll ever be?” Theon goaded.

 

Sensing a way out his sister finally spoke up “I can go back to and get Jory to or Ser Rodrik to help.” she seemed even more tired than he's ever seen her and her sunny mood this morning has all but disappeared but at the prospect of leaving their presence Sansa seemed to perk up.

 

It wasn't that he didn't trust his sister it was just that he didn't trust the way the prince stared at her before she turned to ride off with Lady at her heels he called out “Sansa! Take Loras with you! Just to be safe” the knight of flowers appeared to have no interest in his sister- something which he was thankful for but he was never cruel, for all intents and purposes he upheld all the values gallant knights were supposed to have.

 

Gods I’ve been listening to Sansa's stories too much, i'll have to talk to Old Nan again to be rid of these florid fantasies of saving damsels., the stories of the Nightfort pervade with the tales of Mad-Axe, the Rat Cook and the seventy-nine sentinels or even the last hero and the thing that came in the night. Those were the tales he would remember and not these southron fancies of princes and knights. The North  _ is not like that.  _ It is harsh and cold not pliant and warm

 

But, he supposes, the south is. And perhaps his betrothed would be the Jonquil to his Florian- Theon would certainly say he is a fool.

 

_ Enough of Margaery _ he shook his head to clear his thoughts, he had more pressing issues. 

 

“I can escort Lady Sansa back to Winterfell”

 

A rushed exchange of glances between himself, Sansa whos eyes widen and betrayed her anxiety and with Loras who had finally caught on to Sansa's discomfort. Theon just glared at Joffrey, who in return sneered back at him with a face that would curdle milk.

 

Loras got off his horse and began securing the game to his saddle, they had split “No, really it is fine I'm happy to escort her back” and in an attempt to dissuade Joffrey from this ‘endeavour’ without explaining to him that he makes Sansa uncomfortable, “I’ve not had the best luck hunting”

 

Which unfortunately did not dissuade the Prince as he retorted, “Well I will also escort her back”

 

“If Lady Sansa wants company then mine shall suffice” Loras rebutted, it was clear he was getting frustrated at the lack of a modicum of decorum from Joffrey who seemed intent on getting his way.

 

He may as well just escort his sister back himself  so he spoke up “I will escort her as her older brother”

 

“No Sansa is going back so I'll take her” Gods did this prat know when to shut up?

 

“I'm not staying here with the prat”  Theon shouted over everyone.

 

Joffrey's face went redder than his tunic, “Pirate scum go back to your traitorous islands!” his face lit up with malicious intent as he then continued, “oh wait you can't! Your father gave you up” Joffrey laughed alone to himself.

 

He glanced at Robb and reached for his short sword and Robb rode up and caught his arm, murdering “Theon this isn't stealing blueberry pies from the kitchen I can't cover for you if you do something monumentally stupid” so as to not arouse suspicion.

 

Joffrey looked suspicious.

 

Tension had risen, he knew that if it got any worse they would all be dangerously close to committing treason.

 

Loras, presumably tired of the prince's pathetic attempts at posturing, declared, “For Gods’ sake let's just all go back” 

 

“Fine!” Joffrey roared (or attempted to at least).

 

Theon’s head swivelled quickly as though looking for something he had lost, “Uh… where did Sansa go?” 

 

“Maybe she got tired of your complaining and left” 

 

A  _ thwack _ of an arrow hitting the tree next to Joffrey signalled that Sansa might  _ not _ have left of her own volition.

**********************Theon BOIIIIIIS

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck

 

He was so preoccupied with the crown prat that he didn't notice Sansa disappearing.  _ Think Theon think! _ He felt his head screaming at him to just do something and yet he was rooted to his spot. 

 

It couldn't be a Lannister plot as the blonde twat looked ready to  _ relieve himself _ but it couldn't possibly be  _ wildings this far south _ .

 

The arrow that flew at the inbred blonde would have relieved some of the tension seeing the cowardly lion come out but instead reignited the pit of fear pooling inside him  _ they were under attack _ . 

 

Finally spurred into action he reached for an arrow to draw his bow, the familiarity calming his fraught thoughts and his breathing evened as he drew his eyeline across the forest, to a breakage in the shrubbery where he saw snags of fur.

 

_ Wildlings _ .

 

* * *

~Sansa POV~

Why were they all so  _ childish?  _ Everything had to be a competition, Loras was a good sport about it at least but she found herself growing increasingly frustrated at Theon's cockiness. Though, even that was far more bearable than Joffrey's chauvinism she couldn't believe how rude he was! The worst part of it was that she could tell that he thought he was charming, he had insulted her home, her family and Lady. even going so far as to suggest that she would make a good maiden cloak for their wedding.

 

A wedding she found herself quite relieved wasn't happening.

 

And so, she had spurred her young filly, joy onwards and headed back to Winterfell.

 

A little further into her ride she became keenly aware that she was being watched, she urged joy to go faster than the leisurely trot though her horse was bred to be a palfrey and was ill-suited to go any faster than an amble. 

 

Her horse tripped over a root and through her off and she threw her arms out in front of her in a failed attempt to catch herself as she landed with a thud on the mossy ground. 

 

A pulsing pain had erupted in her shoulder, and as she attempted to push herself up, her right arm buckled under her. 

 

A rustling of leaves to her left drew her attention. Her gaze snapped towards the bracken bush where a bedraggled woman appeared in matted furs with a splattering of blood upon her face. 

 

The wildling woman came closer to her, almost animalistic in her walk. Sansa could feel her breathing stutter and the shallow breaths she had been taking disappear entirely. 

 

Her wolf necklace became a lead weight around her neck “That's a pretty necklace. Silver?”

 

Sansa stopped breathing entirely, playing dead in response to her fear.

 

The strange woman cam closer to her, brushing the hair that had fallen out of her plait behind her ear. The gesture of comfort left her feeling disturbed. 

Just as quickly had the wildling gave her an ounce of comfort had she ripped the chain from her neck and tucked into her furs, gave Sansa an unsettling smile and grabbed her by the arms to incapacitate her so she couldn't fight back.

 

Not that she had anything to fight back with.

 

And now her shoulder that had been pulsing with pain now felt like it had been set aflame.

 

It took all of the teachings from Septa Mordane she had preached that ‘ladies shouldn't get emotional in front of a stranger or complain about their pain unless to a Maester”

 

Never had she felt so cowardly. Wasn't she supposed to be a ferocious wolf? What would Lady do? What would Arya do? Certainly not bear their necks in submission. 

Yet here she was.

 

She opened her eyes to find there were three more wildlings who had entered the clearing. One was mostly toothless, one with a bushy beard that was matted with blood and fur and the last one who was very old and decrepit.

 

The toothless one whistled through whatever he had left, giving her a once over “That's a pretty young thing there, I say we take her, the horse and whatever silver she has. I'll steal her away to be my wife”

 

“Not if I steal her first” the bearded one said next with a voracious grin that stretched across his face in an unattractive manner she hadn't thought to be possible.

 

It was then the lecherous old man who spoke his peace “I'll take her back North where she’ll bear me babies that are kissed by fire.” she felt sick to her stomach at his foul insinuation at sullying her.

 

The cold metal of a dagger came upon her neck, the female wildling pulled her closer. She could feel her warm breath on the back of her neck.

 

_ I will not be scared, I will not be scared.  _ She repeated to herself perhaps if she repeated to herself she might start believing it. __

 

“I am lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell.” She could feel her eyes brim with tears but she knew that all she could do was make time for her brother to find her.

 

 Lady was still with Greywind so she hoped that their bond would lead them to her, “You will not make it past those trees before my brother will hunt you down and either kill you here or drag you back to face the Kings justice and make you wish that you had never seen the wall let alone cross it”

 

The wildling who didn't have most of his teeth spoke up again “ooh the young lady thinks she has some bite, does she? Id like to see her mouth do something else”

 

“Shut up the lot of you! She's more trouble than she's worth and you'll have us all killed. What's the point of fleeing death if you'll go running for it at the first sight of a pretty maiden's skirt?”

 

A roaring howl reverberated throughout the Wolfwood.  _ Lady. _

 

The female wildling let out a slew of curses, at least it sounded like curses as she had no idea what language she was speaking in but got the gist that she was quite angry.

 

Thunderous hoof beats and sounds of Greywind and lady surrounded her. _ They found her _ .

 

Lady and Greywind scrambled with their hackles raised, through the bushes growling and circling the wildlings.

As tension increased they rushed to her side, growling to prevent anyone coming near her.

 

She saw Theon, on smiler break through the treeline followed by Robb, “Drop the knife. Let her go and I'll let you live.” Robb shouted across in his best impression of their fathers ‘lord voice’

 

_ ‘Ptu’  _ the bearded one spat in their direction. 

 

The elderly wilding runs towards Theon wielding an axe and wildly swinging it around in a vain attempt to hit him but Theon had already knocked a loosed his bow. Killing.

 

The toothless wildling grabs the axe of his fallen companion and begins haphazardly swinging at Robb from the side.

The dancing their mother had enforced upon them lending a flair to Robbs footwork as he dodged the blows from the wildling, ducking and pivoting to the increased agitation of his adversary who then steps back, wields his axe in the air, and drives it down with all the force he can muster to meet Robb's sword. 

 

The clashing of swords works to her brother's favour as he pushed forward with his sword taking the wilding axe with it. Then with his knife, he swiped it across the wildings neck cutting across it cleanly.

 

She hadn't seen Theon since he struck the elderly wildling down as she had been so engrossed in Robb’s fight, worrying he had been maimed or killed and she found her anxiety growing tenfold with worry and of course the increased pressure upon her throat.

 

“ARGH!” an agonising scream across the clearing where she discovered Theon embroiled in a diminishing fight, he had unarmed the bearded man and struck him with his shortsword.

 

Spraying blood across Theon's face, he stood up and shook out his tawny hair. 

 

_ Huh _ . in this light he looked like the warrior incarnate with his strength and martial prowess displayed. It was weird that she had never noticed that before but maybe it takes being held against your will to notice these things.

 

With the rest of the wildlings dispatched Robb spoke to the woman restraining her “Drop the knife. Let her go and we’ll let you live.”

 

 “What about her?”

 

Sansa was suddenly released, a freedom she had sorely missed she took lungfuls of air to make up for what she had lost.

 

 “Give me my life, my Lord, and I'm yours.” the wildling woman begs, clasping her hands together begging for her life. Sansa couldn't bear to see any more death and though she had nearly killed her she didn't believe that this woman deserved to die.

 

“Don't kill her.”

 

“What!?” Theon shouted incredulously.

 

“Don't kill her.”

 

“I don't want to see any more death, let her seek refuge with us, and work off her indiscretion.”

 

“Okay then,” Robb nodded his head to Theon to take the wildling, “we will let her live.”

 

Robb pulled her into a tight hug whispering “thank the gods you're okay”

 

_ “Ow” _

 

Robb took her by the shoulders and looked intently into her eyes, he looked as terrible as she felt. “Are you okay?” 

 

The realisation had dawned on Robbs face that he had taken his first life and that their mother would kill him for getting them into danger.

 

He had turned away “Robb.” 

 

 “Robb! Listen to me! You did all you could. it'ss not your fault. I'm only hurt because I fell of Joy it's fine”

 

Theon approached her, “It's not fine Sansa, you could have died” taking her into his arms to hug her, “We should have realised you were gone sooner.”

 

It felt warm and comforting, she had forgotten what that felt like.

 

“That's on me, I just needed to get away from Joffrey. Actually,  _ where are  _ Joffrey and Loras?”

 

* * *

 

~Robb POV~

 

“AND THEN YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE IT I FOUGHT OFF THREE WILDLNGS ON MY OWN!” Joffrey was by people as he regaled his exploits- well what had happened before Joffrey had pissed himself and ran back to Winterfell.

 

They had just crossed the threshold of the Winterfell gates and seen the mass amount of people, he saw Loras handing over their game over to the servants to take into the kitchen and was blatantly ignoring the prince.

 

“Stop lying Joffrey, you only saw the first Wildling that Loras killed before you ran back here screaming” Theon had guided Smiler over to the crowd, and Robb followed while still holding onto the rope that held the wildling that had attacked Sansa.

 

Ned and the King entered the courtyard followed by the rest of the Lannister's and Robb's mother, Catelyn.

“What is all this about then” Robert boomed, his voice signalling a sudden silence that swept over the crowd.

 

Sansa was too his left on her pony. Joy had run off from danger but they had found her as they were heading back towards Winterfell so she had left the arms of Theon to resume propriety. It was a bit weird how she had decided to share a saddle with Theon and demand that Robb take control over the wildling as according to her  _ “it would show father that you are responsible” _

 

“Your Grace,” Robb said, bowing his head towards the King, “we were hunting in the Wolfwood when we came across a group of wildling bandits. Loras killed the first one and took back Joffrey and the Deer and Boars we had caught while Theon and I went searching Sansa after she had been taken by them”.

 

Looking at his father he understood why some people thought he was cold, his ‘quiet wolf’ moniker made sense, he seemed to be a mix of absolutely seething and very grave

 

“Robert I think this would best be discussed inside.” the King nodded his assent and Robb found himself and the others being led away to the Kings solar.

 

He noticed Theon help Sansa off her horse as well, but that's probably just because of her difficulty with her shoulder.  _ Probably. _

 

Father had called mother and Maester Luwin into the solar, the family solar meeting Robb was getting used to seemed to be growing less intimate.

 

“Go on son, tell us what happened.” 

 

Joffrey opened his wormy lips to talk but the King sternly said “Not you, I don't trust a word that comes out of your mouth. Turning craven at the first sign of danger? it’s hard to believe you're my son sometimes”

 

_ Oh if only you knew  _ the thought Robb knew almost everyone was thinking.

 

In the uncomfortable silence that pervaded Loras decided to speak up, “we realised Sansa had gone missing as we were accosted, an arrow had flown past and nearly hit Joffrey. Lady had caught the scent of Sansa, Theon and Robb went off to find Sansa and I fought off the wildling who fired at us and escorted Joffrey back to safety.” Loras gave a pointed look at Joffrey almost daring him to argue it or he would say how the blonde twat had soiled his underclothes.

 

Robert seemed to accept what Loras had told him and merely nodded while Robb's mother, who had been sitting anxiously, her eyes flitting between himself and Sansa. Her eyes roving over each of them checking for injuries or harm.

 

“You said that Sansa had been taken, what happened?” it was a question even he found himself asking. Sansa had barely spoken since they found her, instead preferring to deflect all their questions even refusing to elaborate on her injuries.

 

“It was fine, mother.  Lady tracked my scent guided them to find me. The wildlings only wanted my silver and horse” Robb could hardly believe how reticent Sansa was being at this. 

 

He couldn't help his frustration and asserted “No Sansa, that was not all. We found you with a knife to your throat and three wildling men fighting amongst themselves on who would steal you away”

 

Catelyn gasped, her face moulding itself into grief over her daughter's safety and she rushed over to Sansa and pulled her into her arms, crying  and began stroking Sansa’s hair to soothe both herself and her daughter, “oh my dear sweetling oh gods if Robb had not found you.”

 

Sansa let out a small squeak of “ow”

 

“Oh, my sweetling are you hurt” as Sansa nodded their mother stood up straight, turned to father stating  “Maester Luwin and I shall escort Sansa to the infirmary so you may continue your questions” she then held out her hand to Sansa and immediately left the solar with the Maester following swiftly behind them. 

 

Theonspoke next, his eyes still lingering on the closed door, “Sansa is too kind, it will get her killed one day”

 

Outside in the corridor, there was banging and shouting “get out of my way I am the queen of the seven kingdoms and I shall enter my solar!”  _ well someone must have told Cersei. _

 

She pushed through the door and began demanding the head of the wildling that they had brought back as according to her “she could have hurt her precious sweetling”

 

“Sansa doesn't want any more death and she has offered her a job at the castle”

 

father, who so far had been pensive and withdrawn from the caterwauling of the royals said “and I am inclined to agree”

 

“This is an outrage! The disrespect!” her fury made her intricate hairstyle make her appear malevolent as her southron style gave her the illusion of horns. She may still be a Lannister by name but she had apparently taken her house words quite seriously as she was for lack of a better word, furious.

 

“That wildling woman is now a member of the Stark household, therefore she is under my jurisdiction and seeing as how Sansa has already given her clemency for the crime she committed against my daughter I shall see that  _ my daughter's _ word is seen through.” Robb couldn't quite believe the transformation of his father, the quiet and reserved man become ferocious in protecting his family. Robb could only hope that he would become half the man his father is when he becomes the lord of Winterfell.

 

* * *

~Jon POV~

 

In the training yard sparring against Dacey was where Arya found him.

 

She was running as though she was being chased by a shadow cat and waving a letter about in her hand. It gave him such joy to see his closest sibling- well cousin, so free-spirited now that she was out of the confines of Winterfell and ‘ladylike’ behaviour, that she could run about, learn swordplay and archery all to her heart's content without Lady Catelyn judging her. He, himself found himself feeling the same way.

 

“JON!” her face was flushed red and she was struggling to catch her breath but her smile was infectious,  Read this letter I just received from Sansa! You will not believe it!”

 

The fact that Sansa was the cause of this smile seemed even more bizarre, last time he checked they were more prone to tearing each others hair out than being friendly.

 

“Of course Arya, what has got you so excited”

 

“Read the letter and find out” she promptly thrust the letter into his hands.

 

“Alright, alright I will”

  
  


_ Dear Arya, _

 

_ It appears that your absence has left it to me to be the one in which interesting things happen too. I went out hunting with Robb, fell off my horse (more believable) and encountered a band of wildlings who intended to steal me, before Robb, and Theon came to my rescue. _

 

_ Maester Luwin believes I have dislocated my shoulder, so now I have to wear a sling so now I can't even practice my embroidery- all in all, it's a rather horrid state of affairs. But ive come to realise I miss you, your wild antics makes more sense to me now that ive had my own.  _

 

_ I would like for us to become closer even though we shall be far apart. _

 

_ Your Dearest Sister, _

_ Sansa. _

 

“Are you sure this is from Sansa?” 

 

“Yes.” her head nodded so quickly he almost felt that it would fall off with her ferocity “why do all of the fun things happen in Winterfell when I'm not there?”

 

“I don't think you would want to be captured by wildlings Arya, and also if you were back in Winterfell you would have to be around the Queen and be a proper little lady”

 

“I’d still like to at least have the chance to be captured. Just so I can fight them off. obviously”

 

The slender sword he had gifted to her hung around her waist, Mikken did an amazing job with the proportion and he had been trying to teach her how to use it, which if she planned on being captured he may have to increase her training.

 

* * *

 

~Margaery POV~

 

Dinner at Highgarden was, as usual, a lively affair, Margaery was not quite sure what they were celebrating, the bards were happily playing and the overall mood of the hall was jovial.

 

Margaery was sat by a few of her handmaidens discussing the arrival of Sansa stark in the coming weeks. Mira Forrester was most excited to have another Northerner in Highgarden and was happily regaling them with traditional northern heroes and soliloquising about the snow. All of which Margaery took a keen interest in, she needed to now the land her future husband was from of course.

 

They were supping on rosehip soup when Maester Lomys arrived, red-faced and a little out of breath. His jangling chain serving as percussion to the bard's rendition of ‘ six maids in a pool’  with a scroll and hurried along to present it to her father. 

 

The familiar rose wax seal had already been opened, so she turned her attention to her grandmother whose wry smile was proof enough that she already knew its contents. Well, the letter must be from Loras and for Grandmother to permit it to be read by father at a feast it could only be good news for him to let slip.

  
  


But what must have happened at Winterfell? She knew she would find out soon enough her father's face was absurdly easy to read to the point most cyvasse games were over succinctly.

 

She had tuned out of Mira's storytelling and focused on her father.  

 

His eyebrows rose up in shock then promptly furrowed.  _ Oh Gods, has something happened to Robb? At least Loras is okay he survived to send a raven at least _

 

But then her fathers face morphed into something almost giddy, he suddenly stood up to address the hall. His portly belly knocked over his cup of wine but he didn't seem to notice, in vain he attempted to quieten the hall but his voice wouldn't carry over the bard's powerful performance. 

 

Olenna gestured to one of her twin guardsmen.  _ Left, _ Margaery assumed to tell the Bard to shut up and so his rendition came to an abrupt stop at “ By ugly, full of money lord”.  _ Her grandmother might have had a hand in that too though  _ Margaery thought mirthfully while suppressing a giggle to herself. 

 

The revelry in the hall was heralded to an end by the loss of music to drunkenly sing along too. All eyes were now on their liege lord. 

 

“As you all know my son Loras ‘the Knight of Flowers’,” her father placed emphasis on his title just like how he would emphasise Garlan's mantle as ‘the Gallant’, “is visiting Winterfell to oversee the royal visit and to formalise a betrothal between the wolves and the Roses!”

 

A rousing cry of “hear! hear!” erupted through the hall. A jolt of joy rushed through Margaery, her father had  _ officially announced their betrothal.  _ There was no way her father could go back from that and try to tie her to the Lannisters now.

 

Mace took a more sombre note as he continued, “He has also spoken of an altercation while on a hunt, wildlings threatened the life of the Crown Prince Joffrey and Lord Stark's daughter." Worry gnawed at her, Sansa was becoming a fast friend and to think that such a lovely girl would be harmed made her sick to her stomach. 

Her mind started bombarding her with horrible scenarios of the ‘savage’ North that she had been warned about from the stories of Lynesse Hightower’s shambles of a marriage. The more rational part of her reminded that the North is not alone in its dangers of bandits and the same threat lies outside these castle walls just as it does as Winterfell.

 

Her aunt had been silly for expecting the comforts of the Reach to exist on Bear Island. She would not be her aunt who was as rigid and steadfast as the Hightower she was, she was a Tyrell, she would grow strong no matter her environment. Her petals may change from the gold and green of the Reach but the northern soil shall take her roots and she shall thrive.

 

"He saved the life of the Prince and helped Robb Stark- Margaery's betrothed to kill Sansa Stark's abductors before any harm could befall her. Proving how well our families can work together and as we are to soon be kin the lady Sansa shall be staying as our ward in Highgarden to further bind the tying of our Noble houses." 

 

More cheers had erupted, they did not particularly care for the north so far as she could tell but as always they were up for a celebration. There were various muttering from knights and lords asking “who cares about the Starks?” and  “Why would they marry off their only daughter to those savages in the north?”

 

The only thing that flew faster than ravens was gossip. 

 

Later when the revelry was over, and the bard had finished composing and later performing “The Rose, The Wolf, and the Wild Things” too much applause; she found herself alone in her room thinking over her impending future.

 

She had never looked north when she had daydreamed of her husband and her wedding. Margaery had never even attempted to imagine what her husband would be like or look like, she knew as a girl her lot in life was never going to be plentiful but she had imagined she would be fulfilled by the power she would wield.

 

It was odd then that she now pictured a wedding by the Three Singers in Highgarden’s Godswood and a husband with a northern brogue whos cold environment would only make him warm to her. 

 

_ Think with my head not my heart _ \- the shrewd teachings of her grandmother rattled around her head as a constant reminder she should not be swept away with girlish fantasy.

 

Her grandmother- as though sensing her favourite grandchild’s (if Margaery said so herself) turmoil appeared at her door.

 

“There was something else that arrived from Winterfell” in her grandmother's hand was another letter, though this time emblazoned with a grey wolf seal. Margaery attempted to be coy in grabbing the letter, through her grandmother's stare would prove that her elation was palpable.

 

“You needn't worry my child, it appears he as smitten with you as you are with him.” Margaery blushed at the thought of being so obvious but her heart quickened at the thought that he might feel the same.

 

She had yet to say anything as they weren't needed. Her grandmother could read her like a book and she didn't feel ready to actually say how she felt out loud. In her thoughts at least she didn't have to face up to what they meant. 

 

So Olenna continued, “your betrothal may be the best thing I have ever done, you know that your happiness is paramount to me. I would never see you married to the cruel prince just to satisfy your father's delusions of grandeur. How about we send him your likeness? He may be smitten now but he shall be head over heels for you once he sees you and all I could ever hope for you was that you would marry a man who would worship you.”

 

Joy enveloped her but she couldn't help but jest at her grandmother's expense “You read the letter already didn't you?”

  
“Well, of course, I did. He has lovely penmanship, though I found his quoting of  _ Rulers of the Reach a _ tad simpering” Olenna quipped back,  _ so the queen of thorns has not gone soft after all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant to be this long I sort of got carried away. 
> 
> if you want to get updates on my writing or even ask for a drabble just send an ask on my Tumblr (dedicated to my writing) graceful-defender-of-paris and as usual feel free to comment!


	6. Bark versus Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady is Rather unladylike while Osha reveals the horrors beyond the wall.

~Ned POV~

 

He would grant his daughters request to not harm the wildling woman but he still needed answers.  _ Why would wildlings go this far south?  _

 

As everyone dispersed either to see Sansa or in the case of the Lannister strop off in a huff, he was left with only himself and his life long best friend.

 

Robert had changed from the time he last saw him. Long gone was the boy he grew up with in vale, the man he had fought side by side within two rebellions and brother in all but blood. In his place, was an amalgamation of all his flaws increased tenfold.

 

Turning to Robert he spoke “something is not right north of the wall,” he took his gaze away from him and continued “I'm going to talk to the wildling if you please” once again deferring to propriety to his king.

 

“Shut up with your bloody airs and graces Ned,” Robert bellowed, his face was flushed with annoyance or Arbor gold, “if I wanted to hear that rubbish I’d have stayed in kings landing. I'll go with you.”

 

Robert, in response to Ned's incredulity, responded to the unspoken question “I never get to do anything fun anymore, 

ts all small councils and laws. Gods what would I give to hold my war hammer in my hands again and a whore in my lap.”

 

“From what I hear you don't lack in whores” Ned shot back. There was a sense of despondency to Robert. He was a man-made in a war not fit for times of peace and still overwhelmed with grief over Lyanna. 

 

He would never be able to tell him the truth of Lyanna, it would only break his heart more. 

 

Roberts face- though heavily flushed with wine was happier than he had seen him since the start of his visit. “Hahaha” he guffawed, “this is why I need you down south as my hand! Nobody dares to stand up to me anymore apart from those Lannister cunts who love to remind me how much I owe them”

 

“The north needs me, Robert”

 

“You've got Robb, at least you have an heir that doesn't hide behind their mother's skirts” he had to give him that, Joffrey did appear to hide behind his mother when it came to confrontation or just being told he isn't allowed to do something. If he didn't know what he already did he would hardly be surprised to find that the blond boy wasn't his friend's son.

 

Of course, he could not tell Robert that without proof or the Lannisters would have his head.

 

“Speaking of Robb, I'm planning on taking him down to the cells with me, if you're joining are you going to take Joffrey?”

 

“Ha like that boy would care! He would rather see the woman dead than in chains” Robert retorted, an attempt to boast but disappointment lingered in his tone.

 

“I don’t plan on breaking my daughter's promise, no matter what she tells us down there she shall be given a place in my household”

 

Cracking open another bottle of wine, taking a large swig of it Robert shook his head before saying, “You Starks and your honour, you would give the knife to stab you in the back”

 

“Without honour you have nothing” ned replied _. Family duty honour, I'm more Tully than I would have thought. _

 

Robert began waving his flagon around, “Honour is all well and good but what's the fun in life if you're too busy being a stick in the mud for honour”

 

This was a useless fight, he would never change Roberts whoring ways, all that mattered was keeping him alive, “No matter, I will fetch Robb and we shall head down there now.”

 

Cold pervades the dungeon of the castle. The warmth that goes hand in hand with the very walls of Winterfell due to the hot springs seemed to flee at the cells, leaving a bitter frost surrounding them. 

 

In the corner of the cell was the wildling woman. Blood and mud-splattered across her and a nest of hair on her head. Calling over the guard he sent him on to look for Vayon Poole to set her up as a part of his household- and of course for privacy. 

 

Ned had a feeling the answers he would receive here shouldn't leave these four walls. To his left was Robb, the clean shave he had to receive the royal retinue was giving way to a steadily growing beard. It was hard to believe his son was nearly a man and that he was leaving his son to be the Lord of Winterfell in his stead so soon.

 

He had little time to ponder further as they shuffled into the room.

 

“What is your name?” he asked her, his voice taking the same tone as hit usually did when speaking to his children.

“Osha” she spat out.

Osha had very little regard to titles or Lords as shown by her blatant disrespect to himself and the king but that was to be expected, so he paid it no mind. What was interesting, was that she asked after Sansa. “The girl kissed by fire promised me mercy and a place in your household.”

 

“Aye, and I intend to keep my daughters promise. All I ask is that you tell us why you were fleeing south.”

 

Robert chortled at that “the North is hardly fleeing south now, is it? You'll still be freezing your bollocks off” his bellowing laughter only made him appear a fool rather than a king with his belly jiggling like some southron dessert but now was not the time to say such.

 

Osha continued, stared intently at the king as though she was daring him to contradict her again “You don’t know the true north, the colds not the worse thing to kill you it's what comes with it you should fear.”

 

“She's off her rocker Ned” he put his hand up to shush Robert and gestured for Osha to continue her tale.

 

“I had a man, once; a good man. Bruni, his name was.” her stare begins to drift- no longer focusing on the king off in a world of her creation but her eyes were hard around the edges and her teeth gritted, "But one night, Bruni disappears. People said he left me, but I knew him. He'd never leave me. Not for long. I knew he'd come back. And he did. Only, he wasn't Bruni, not really.”

 

“What does her dead husband matter for? Get on with it” Robert exclaimed. Even ned felt tired of his friend interruptions but the wildling woman looked to be at the end of her tether.

 

Narrowing her eyes at his disruption she continued, “His skin was... pale, like a dead man's. His eyes, bluer than clear sky. He came at me, grabbed me by the neck, and squeezed so hard I could feel the life slipping out of me. I don't know how I got the knife, but when I did, I stuck it deep into his heart. And he hardly seemed to notice. The only thing that would stop him was to set him aflame and eventually his body would stop moving”

 

It couldn't possibly be true. These were just the fanciful tales to scare children into behaving. the others couldn’t-  **_shouldn't_ ** be real.

 

Father broke the silence that had befallen the room. Even the king seemed apprehensive in discounting her tale as florid mummery, “If what you say is true then Gods help us”.

 

“The Gods won't help you, they won't even answer your calls.” Osha practically spat out, “All you need to know is that the North is no place for men to be, not anymore, not while dead men roam once again.”

 

Well shit.

* * *

 

~Sansa POV~

 

After the embarrassment, he had faced with the wildlings she had presumed that Joffrey would avoid her as much as possible as she was a reminder that he had ‘relieved’ himself of his duty and his bowels when faced with danger. If anything it had only spurred him to win her hand.

 

_ Perhaps he was trying to save face or his father had put the fear of the gods into him if he couldn't make his father proud for once. _

 

_ Gods if he finds out about wildling traditions he might just sling her over his shoulder- wait no, sling her over his sworn shields shoulder and run off with her. _

 

She hadn't said anything to father yet, she knew she could not disrespect the king like that. It's just that he made her  _ uncomfortable _ . When he managed to be close enough to her he would grab her so hard it would leave bruises as she would try and extricate herself from his grip.

 

It was happening more often, Jeyne knew. She had seen the bruises on her wrists when helping her dress in the mornings but thankfully the summer snows meant she could cover them up inconspicuously.

 

Now that she had injured herself she couldn't even partake in embroidery anymore as she was constrained by the sling, instead, she had thrown herself into her lessons with Maester Luwin. It was one of the few times she wouldn't be disturbed as nobody dared enter the library for fear of being roped into more lessons. She rarely saw Bran and Rickon if not for breaking fast and dinner.

 

She wasn't alone in seeking refuge in the library though as Robb was there more often than not as well. When she asked him why he just said that he wanted to be ready for when he would have to take on the mantle of ‘Lord of Winterfell’. Of course,  _ that _ did not explain the many books he had been reading about the Reach or the amount of time he was spending with old Nan.

 

_ She, of course, had to tease her elder brother for his infatuation with Margaery. Though she also found herself swept up in the romance of it all. _

 

Jeyne is just as swept up as she, herself is with southron tales of chivalry; and so, her best friend has been dragging her to the training yard every chance she gets just to watch Loras Tyrell spar.

 

Which unfortunately meant that Joffrey would appear by her side and talk over everyone. As Lady was practically attached to her hip it meant that at least Joffrey wouldn't get too close- for fear of her direwolf. But his voice would carry across and could still annoy her.

 

_ “Knight of flowers? Pah! He's a weakling! I could beat him any day of the week. He's Nothing compared to a lion”- _ his running commentary tended to be of this ilk. He especially did not care for it if you asked why he wouldn't go down and spar with them.

 

His reply was usually something about “I am far too skilled to go against these ruffians, it would not be fair to them”

 

He was rather economical with the truth.

 

It was only when he started complaining at Bran's attempt at archery under the tutelage of Theon that she truly became infuriated. 

 

"The twerp can't even hold up a bow. Hahaha, what can you expect when he's being taught by iron born scum" she found herself becoming furious at him, she shut her book with little regard to keeping her page. 

 

“Well, I imagine you would be able to beat Theon in an Archery contest, perhaps even sparring. Unless of course, you believe that Bran is more your speed” each word, she spoke with intent to get under his skin. He was too proud to go against such an overt challenge.

 

Joffrey's face became red as he flustered and blustered about, “well, of course, I could beat him,” he stuck his neck up higher and looked snootily down his nose at them “I am the crown prince”

 

“Well surely you should show off your prowess, you must be like your father reborn.” he preened under her praise but seemed fidgety his sworn sword- the Hound seemed to be holding back a smile. The way his skin stretched across his burn only frightened her further  but she steeled her resolve to continue her goading “Can you wield a war hammer?”

 

Her mother would be horrified at this but she had little to occupy her time with now.

 

“Of course I can wield a war hammer! I am my father's son!” he looked truly affronted and began storming down to the training yard and began proclaiming that he and the ‘pirate’ were to spar, as well as something along the lines of “my father beat yours and so shall I beat you!”

 

Nothing is quite so sweet as knowledge.

 

Jeyne, looked as though all her namedays had come at once. She seemed overjoyed at such dramatics occurring.

 

His shouts and calls had attracted the attention of her brothers and the e=guards who were sparring, now there was an audience to watch Joffrey and no matter how much the hound advised him against this he refused to be shown up.

 

Theon cockily sauntered over and reached for his sword that was lying by the bench. Wielding his sword he began to swing it about, showing off his confidence with it as he twirled it as though it weighed naught but a feather. Robb and Jon were the superior swordsmen compared to him as Theon had always excelled with the bow but when compared to Joffrey Theon was practically Arthur Dayne. 

 

The thought made her long for her sister, Arya would always compare their bastard brother to the sword of the morning which she would normally always refute at her mother's insistence but 

Sansa found herself questioning what she had been taught.  _ If bastards are supposed to be lustful and crass why is it that Jon was always polite? But then again if what she had been told of Joffrey was true then that was irrefutable proof her Septa had been right. _

 

it also seemed that Joffrey had taken her war hammer comment to heart as he demanded one from the armoury. 

 

Though, as the winner was to be determined by who drew first blood, so the prince's request was denied- much to his annoyance but to Sansa's relief; a war hammer would be more likely to break bones than draw blood.

 

The two opponents circled each other, Joffrey’s attempts to hit  Theon were blocked and parried with ease adding flourishes which she _ knew was not necessary  _ and he was only adding the  _ swish _ of his sword to further infuriate the prince further. 

 

Even Sansa- who has no training in swordplay knows that his stance is sloppy. He nearly trips over his feet in an attempt to avoid his opponent's blow. taking advantage of Joffrey's unsteadiness Theon managed to slash through his crimson silk doublet, leaving a nick on the young boy's chest.

 

With the decisive win the crowd began to disperse away back to their work, she and Jeyne rushed down to join her brothers, Bran was giddy with excitement and demanded to be swung around by Theon giggling all the while. Even Lady was circling the group, yipping about, it was rather clear that Theon had managed to annoy just about everyone in Winterfell- human or not.

 

She, alone, witnessed Joffrey, red-faced and infuriated that he had been embarrassed reaching for the war hammer that was beside the training dummies. The predatory glint in his eye she first saw when he arrived had returned, making her heart leapt to her throat, nobody was stopping him and Theon had his back turned to celebrate his win with Robb and still had Bran in his arms.

 

She felt rooted to the spot. Even her voice had left her as well, leaving her unable to scream out even a warning to them. She felt utterly powerless.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lady, she had her hackles raised at the threat.  _ Oh gods, he’s getting closer … do something!  _ She screamed at herself, hoping against hope that anybody would stop Joffrey.

 

As though she could hear her thoughts, Lady started growling, alerting the others to Joffrey's presence but before Robb and Theon could even reach for their swords, or for Bran to jump out of Theon's arms, Lady, her docile direwolf who could barely harm a fly had pounced on the crown prince.

 

Her jaw was clamped on his wrist and gave her brother and Theon the time to rush over and restrain Joffrey. Sansa took Bran into her arms from where he had been unceremoniously dropped in the rush and called off Ladys attack. 

 

Joffrey's Screams of agony called the attention of the courtyard once again and if she was being honest it did not look good. Loras appeared by her side, she hadn't noticed him at all during the fight, her confusion must have been palpable as he turned to her and said: “I sent your Friend Jeyne to find Lord Stark.”

 

Normally she would be quite flustered to be in such close proximity to the knight of flowers but she found she had more pressing issues at hand. Such as her direwolf and brothers attacking the crown prince- which  _ technically they didn’t as he started it. Once father is here he will understand that Joffrey started it and that Lady was merely being protective. _

 

The Hound bolted forward and yanked his screaming charge by the scruff of his neck. Which took Joffrey by surprise as he stopped screeching bloody murder, he froze for a moment as though he realised what he had done and in that time she noticed he had blood trickling down his wrist and as her genteel Lady trotted back to heel, she saw the bloodstains around her muzzle.

 

_ Oh gods. _

* * *

 

~Tyrion POV~

 

The entire proceeding was hilarious, the king and Lord Stark had been trying to sort out the dispute without making it a trial. He had been called to Lord Starks solar as he was one of the few witnesses to the fight and once he arrived Joffrey had been shouting “he started it! They dared to insult their future king! How dare they! I am marked for life by that… that HIDEOUS CREATURE”

 

Across the room, the Stark children were contesting the claims as the Greyjoy ward shouted “he tried to attack me with my back turned after I won our spar”

 

“Father I promise it was not Theon's fault, Lady was only trying to protect us”

 

Robb added “  not as though he could even lift the war hammer, and he could barely ”

 

The king bellowed “really Joffrey? Stop crying like a weak little girl. You're an absolute disgrace to the Baratheon name. You were beat in combat by a bloody Greyjoy and then you attack when his back is turned?”

 

Hearing the drunken, whoring fool (gods there were similarities between them it was a wonder they weren't better friends) of a king preach about honour just made it that much sweeter.

 

“Clegane, where were you when this occurred?” Lord Stark asked he seemed more on edge than his usual anxious nature allowed him to be, the icy stare he fixed on the Hound was only softened as his eyes flickered to his children, ”Why did you not stop the prince?”

 

The gruff giant of a man answered with as much enthusiasm as a whore in a sept on maidens day, in that he looked rather uncomfortable to be here and wished the ground would swallow him whole. “Joffrey agreed to the fight and wouldn't be back out, he lost easily and he commanded me to put away his sword. I only saw the tail end of it when he screamed but he had a weapon in his hands so I say the girl isn't lying.”

 

“YOU'RE ALL LIARS!” his petulant nephew screeched. The only similarities it seems his nephew had to his father was the redness in his face as he shouted- though Joffrey's was not aided by wine.

 

“Oh shut up Joffrey” Tyrion found himself saying. His nephew's petulance was losing its comedic value, “we saw you as plain as day, you deserve what you got.” His nephew certainly had not inherited his father's skill on the battlefield or even his uncles but it made for a fun albeit short match.

 

The king looked furious, the disrespect his son had shown his self proclaimed ‘brother in all but name’s family with his insults and attempted murder honestly (he was ready to attack and kill the Greyjoy who had a Stark at his every side and in his arms). His nephew would be lucky to get out of this mostly unscathed. 

 

“I hear as well that you have been harassing my daughter, refusing to take no for an answer and even at times grabbing her. Do you deny this?” the stark girl looked surprised at this and turned to the mousy haired girl at her side and began whispering to her.  _ Ah so her friend must have told then. _

 

“How dare you accuse me.” Joffrey spat out “She's mine anyway or at least will be, she was supposed to be my betrothed and she  _ will _ marry me whether she  _ wants to _ or not.” 

 

“Shut up boy! There was no betrothal between you and Sansa” the king grumbled, “well I suppose that settles it, I'd have his hide for what he's done but his mother would kill me so I suppose his injury is suitable enough punishment. Would remind him not to mess with wolves” a twitch of a smile threatened to break out on the portly man's face.

 

The Stark children still seemed angry but they were encircled around the girl, she had her younger brother on her knee while her eldest and ward glared daggers at Joffrey. Loras Tyrell was also here, he hadn't spoken up so far as he had seen.

 

“I demand the head of the beast who harmed me!” Joffrey cried.  _ Why couldn't he just shut up? Why must he be so stupid? _

 

The Stark children looked horrified at the prospect, it was mirrored on the face of Lord Stark as well, outraged at the mere suggestion.

 

“You bloody well will not. It's your own damn fault, Now shut up and try not to piss anyone else off.”

 

“But father! I am  _ scarred _ for  _ life _ .”

 

“I certainly hope so. At your age, I was able to kill a hog with my bare hands and you can't handle a puppy.” it seemed even Robert tired of this, not that he could blame him.

 

Joffrey, Clegane and himself had been commanded out as the king treated with the Starks. Presumably to try and convince Ned to come to Kingslanding and be his hand and apologise on behalf of Joffrey.

 

That had been an hour ago and since they arrived at their room things had not  _ exactly calmed down. _

 

Cersei was fuming.

 

It almost made the dreary trip worth it just to see her direct her anger at somebody that wasn't him. 

 

“Those horrid Starks! And their  **_FOUL BEASTS_ ** ! My poor son!” she whipped her head around to longingly stare at her son who was sprawled across the armchair as though he was near death and not nursing a mere bite.

 

It was a wonder the wolf hasn't taken his hand off, though that was of little consequence to Cersei who seemed to be under the assumption that her firstborn was on the brink of meeting with the stranger. _ If only. _

 

_ “Ughrhhhehhhh” Joffrey groaned. _

 

Honestly, this whole debacle is worth nearly freezing his cock off for.

* * *

  
  


~Loras POV~

 

The ‘prince’ was an absolute twat.

 

Thank whatever gods there were that grandmother hadn't let father try to marry Margaery off to the incestuous bastard. Of course, his plan to marry her to Robert also seemed silly in hindsight but she would have made such a  _ good queen _ . It was quite a shame.

 

Renly is the best of the Baratheon's. More charming than Stannis and would make a far better king than Robert. Alas, it seemed he would not see his love for a while yet.

 

He had somewhat drifted off during Joffrey's posturing but was brought back when Lord Stark said: “Sansa, you and Ser Loras shall leave for White Harbour immediately, you shall leave for Highgarden”.  _ They were leaving?  _ He understood  _ why _ it's just that they were supposed to be travelling with the royal retinue but he supposed it just meant he would be at sunny Highgarden sooner.

 

And perhaps he could shake off some of the cold from his weary bones. Winterfell was warm of course but it couldn't compare to home.

 

He nodded his agreement to the plan and made to look at Sansa's reaction when Lord Stark continued, “both of you need to be away by tonight, you will dock in Gulltown and meet with your Aunt Lysa. if war is coming we need to be united, I'll have your mother write a missive for you before you go.”

 

The Starks were always described as austere but by the gods, they were certainly more dramatic than anything he had ever seen in the halls of Highgarden. Lord Stark made everything appear so life and death- which, in this case, he's right but still he has a flair for theatrics.  
  


_well, I haven't been to the Vale yet. It would seem there's more adventure to be had before I shall see roses once again._

* * *

 

~Bran POV~

Bran could honestly say that he had never felt more left out in his life. He didn't get to go off on the hunts like the rest of them, he didn't get to fight the wildlings as his brother  _ and sister  _ did and talking about sisters his younger sister who is only a  _ year older _ than him gets to go off to bear island and train in sword fighting.

 

_ It's not fair. _

 

It's not like  _ she's going to become a knight, he _ thought to himself as he continued his huff. 

 

_ Even Sansa gets to go on adventures and she's supposed to be the ladylike one. _

 

At least there were new people to talk too. He didn't like Joffrey but Tommen was very nice and would spar with him- and lose to him. Which was a boon since he could never win when fighting with the older boys and he  _ knew _ that ser Rodrik was only faking Brans win.

 

As much as Bran liked the idea of becoming a knight and the southron idea of chivalry he didn't like other southron things. Like how uppity like how Joffrey liked to push him around and make fun of him, and any time he would say anything about it since he always had his scary dog guard with him.

 

But now nobody- not even Tommen would play with him since Lady bit the Joffrey. It just _ wasn’t fair. _

 

It’s only been with the arrival of his father's old friend Howland that there's been any fun around Winterfell.

 

The Reed’s were fun. They were a little odd though but Bran didn't mind. His father had always spoken very highly of their father and he had told Bran that they had to foster better relations with the crannogmen who guard the neck and that was why the Reeds were to become his companions when they ventured south. Bran didn't know what the whole fostering relations thing meant but he was happy that he now had new friends and didn't have to play with Rickon.

 

When they arrived he was quite sure of the young Reeds, they were smaller than he imagined. They looked like the children of the forest in the same way the Umbers looked like the giants beyond the wall. Or at least what he believes them to look like from old Nans tales. 

 

He found a great camaraderie with Jojen as they would both push each other to climb higher and farther as he was confident in his abilities as a climber while Jojen would just say when pressed that “today is not the day I die” which is a bit odd, to say the least, but it’s nice to have somebody else who will indulge him in climbing.

 

His sister, Meera, is an utter joy in comparison to her brother but she remains far more cautious, and continuously advises against their adventures but eventually relents to his pleading. She was quite pretty, not in the way his sister Sansa is pretty but she was comely none the less. Or so his mother had told him. He didn't care what she looked like so long as she would play with him and his direwolf.

 

For some reason, bran knew that he would be spending the foreseeable future with them. At least they were more fun than Rickon.

* * *

 

 

~Robb POV~

They had said their farewells to Loras and Sansa in the dead of night when most of the castle slept. It was a shame to see his future good brother and best sparring partner (since Jon left) leave, and he keenly felt the loss of yet another sister.

 

The Starks, it seemed, were to be spread across Westeros before the year was to end.

 

The late-night had meant that Robb was late to rise that morning, though he also did not want to see the stuck up prick Joffrey again or any of the other Lannisters. From what one of the servants had overheard (and he had overheard from his mother) Cersei was irate and yesterdays fiasco and was calling for the direwolves heads over it.

 

So before he left his room he locked Greywind in his solar for his safety. Robb hated to enclose him there when he should be outside hunting but needs must.

 

When he finally arrived down for breakfast it was near over. The only person left was Theon who was mournfully looking over his porridge with the intensity he usually reserved for archery.

 

“Huhh” his friend wistfully sighed.

 

He was going to leave Theon to whatever it was he was doing.

 

By Theon's side surprisingly there was a letter with a small package addressed to Robb. breakfast is completely ignored in favour of the letter he hoped was from Margaery.

 

Using a butter knife to break the rose wax seal he had come to recognise as  _ hers _ he hastily read through the letter.

 

_ Dear Robb, _

 

_ Here in Highgarden, we heard of your fight with wildlings, in fact, a few bards have been composing songs of it. My personal favourite is ‘Flowers and Wolves in the Woods’. I hope you weren’t harmed or mind that my letter is later than usual. _

_ I didn't want to send anything until the locket was ready. _

 

_ The Reach and the North feel Worlds apart but I hope that when you wear it you think of me. _

 

_ All my love, _

_ Margaery. _

Upon finishing, he immediately reached for the package- which he now knew was a locket, and nearly tore it open in his excitement.

 

Inside the box was a gold pendant embossed with flowers. _ Roses  _ he thought absentmindedly. Flicking it open there was a portrait of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had rich dark brown hair with curls that were like a waterfall, her eyes were a near match to her hair and her skin was golden from the sun with a smattering of freckles.

 

She was unlike anything he had ever seen, and he felt himself fall a little bit more in love with the girl he knew only through words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy it has been a rough month. hopefully September eases up on me and ill have the next chapter up quicker than this one. 
> 
> I'm very subtle with foreshadowing arent I?? fun drinking game while reading this is to take a shot every time I use a heavy-handed metaphor.  
> (there will be some surprises though- if you've spotted any please comment what you think they are)
> 
> Also I introduced the Whitewalkers now so it won't be as surprising later to Robb (I don't plan on them being the focus but theyre going to come up sooner or later so better to rip off the plaster now) they honestly wont come up again for at least another ten chapters at least so if theyre not your thing dont worry.
> 
> Also shout out to newmidnightmayor who asked for another turion POV


	7. Eerie at the Eyrie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa leaves the safety of home and discovers what life is like outside of Winterfell.

**~Sansa POV~**

 

They had left Winterfell under the cover of darkness. Loras had promised her that she would only need to take the essentials as her dresses would be too warm for Highgarden and that they would get her a seamstress to outfit her as soon as she arrived.

 

So her entire life had been stuffed into a pouch, a few dresses to tide her by, a few trinkets she kept of her siblings (she didn't know when she would see them again so she wanted something of theirs close by) there was a scrap of fabric Arya had poorly embroidered, a Tully trout for her mother, a pair of gloves from Robb, a small knotted string from when Theon was teaching Bran and Rickon to be iron born that she wore on her wrist. 

 

As sad as she was to see Winterfell become a mere spot in the horizon Sansa also felt a thrill of excitement course through her.  _  She was finally starting her own story, and she would find her prince. Not like the rotten Joffrey, he would be brave and gentle and kind. Just like her father promised her. _

 

Once they arrived at White Harbour and sought out the Manderlys, Loras seemed to flourish when surrounded by a decidedly more southern Court. Though Sansa could not say the same for herself.

 

Though the Manderlys had proven their loyalty to the North since their exile from the Reach they were still a bit… well… Southron.

 

She had never been to white harbour but and as much as she enjoyed Southron fancies she did find their green hair rather odd.

 

They rested there for a night, she was gifted with the nicest rooms in the keep after she had passed on the letter from her father to Wyman. She had no idea the contents of the letter but the elderly and rather rotund lord appeared shocked at its contents before chortling rather loudly seemingly quite happy with it. But he informed her and Loras that he would charter a boat for them to get to Gulltown and provide some of his own men for protection as they would proceed to the Eyrie to pay respects to her deceased uncle.

 

Being the warden of the norths daughter certainly had it perks it seemed.

 

Wyla and Wynafryd were very accommodating to them once they realised who they were. They were quite comely but she simply could not get over the oddity of their hair. She had barely left Winterfell and yet she felt as though she were in a different world altogether.

 

The two girls were also rather enamoured with set Loras- though for that she could not blame them as she found herself staring longingly at her knight in shining armour. 

 

But their steadfast attention towards the knight of flowers once Wyman had asked after the royal family.

 

“Ooh tell us about the prince lady Sansa,” Wyla said in a dream-like state, her eyes glazed over with tales of the knights in the songs.

 

“Is he as beautiful as they say” Wynafryd seemed as bemused as her sister and they began to rattle off questions with rapidity to be envied by most archers.

 

“I heard he takes after his mother with  golden hair and emerald eyes”

 

“And that he is just like his father, the king, in his prime.”

 

It hurt to see herself in the Manderly girls, she herself was enamoured with the prince before he showed his true colours and that was just a moon turn ago.

 

She soon excused herself to bed to avoid the barrage of questions directed at her while leaving Loras to their adoration.

 

As she exited the mermaid's hall she could hear the tail end of Loras regaling tales of the reach to the homesick Manderlys.

 

The next day she was prepared herself for her travels. A handmaid entered her room with a variety of clothes, Sansa had almost forgotten her need for new dresses so she welcomed it with open arms.

 

* * *

  
  


**~Ned POV~**

 

Ned, as much as he hates it, was coming to understand why Loras had pushed for him to have a few servants spy on his friend and the rest of the Lannister's.

 

They didn't bother themselves with subtlety. He'd hear reports of Roberts rages and arguments with his wife about the lack of betrothal and Cersei's rants on the savagery of the north and how she believes it to be a wasteland the Targaryens of old should have just burnt down while they were there. The last of which he had heard from his daughter's friend Jeyne Poole who claimed it to be verbatim.

 

What's worse though was what he heard from Osha, they were more careless with her around assuming she was lame or simply a savage idiot. The crown prince Joffrey had allegedly claimed that Sansa was his in all but name and that he would take her so Ned had no other option but to marry her off to him.

 

The normally reserved Ned Stark had nearly had to restrain himself to not murder the bastard when he heard about that, for it would still be considered treason even if he wasn't Robert’s son. 

 

He bore no ill will towards Myrcella or Tommen, they did not share their brother's temperament and almost seemed to level headed to be Cersei's or Roberts. He might offer to foster either of them in Winterfell, the two children reminded him of Jon Arryn but he supposed he had probably been the one to raise the two as the spares weren't fussed over as much as the heir.

 

He had even been thinking of organising to foster one of them in the vale to take them out of reach of their scheming mother, to the extent that he had asked Sansa to raise it with her aunt when she stopped in the vale. 

 

He worried about his good sister. Catelyn had told him that she was always rather timid and only came out of her shell when around either her or their ward Petyr Baelish. That man made his skin crawl but Catelyn only had nice things to say about him so he refused to think upon his thought on the weasely man instead to refer to his wife’s good judgement.

 

‘He was rather weaselly’ Ned musing to himself thought ‘its almost a surprise his sigil is a mockingbird and not the better-suited weasel.'

 

The door to his solar broke open, the poor door finally giving in under the repeated beatings from the King.

 

“NED!” Robert boomed.

 

“Yes Robert.” he was more tired of this than anything else, resigned to his fate in Kingslanding and already planning to find a carpenter as soon as he entered the city just to reinforce the door to his quarters.

 

“I don’t blame you for sending your daughter away,” Robert had been avoiding mentioning Sansa as it was a sore spot- he knew his son was in the wrong but if he tried to defend him he would irreparably damage their friendship, “seven hells if I could avoid Cersei I’d have run off to Essos if only Tywin wouldn’t breathe down my neck.”

 

Ah. he was complaining about Cersei again.

 

“If only I had a wife like Catelyn, she certainly shares your bed”  Robert began laughing at his bawdy joke before he started coughing.

 

It was silent then. Ned didn’t want to break his friend’s pensive state. 

 

“If only I had Lyanna”

 

In the end, it always came back to Lyanna.

* * *

 

**~Arya POV~**

Bear Island was like nothing she had ever known. Being free to do what she actually wants to do almost made her wish she wasn't a Stark.

 

There were days she worried about returning to Winterfell and reuniting with her family only to find that they did not want her as she had become, that her mother would force her back into lessons with septa mordane and all that she had worked for would be for nought.

 

She would be betrothed to some boorish northern lord who would expect a perfect little lady wife who stays behind and embroider his bloody underclothes.

 

She wasn't sure but it certainly seemed Jon was the same way. well, not in the being married off to some lord but in that he found freedom away from Winterfell. Mother wasn't around to shout at him and he wasn't living under Robb's shadow.

 

He seemed happier. Definitely.

 

He wasn't wearing so much black so she hoped he had given up on joining the nights watch.

 

He would still brood on occasion, he had been asking after their aunt Lyanna- the one everyone told Arya she was the spitting image of, and yet all of Maege Mormont’s stories of her rambunctious nature (which, well, Arya could relate to and found herself enraptured by the idea she could still be a Stark without being a perfect little lady who would ride sidesaddle and never shoot a bow). She could do without the kidnapping dragon and bullish Baratheon.

 

Every time Maege would tell her stories she would get the same glint in her eye that old nan had. As though she knew something that Arya didn't.

 

Lessons here were in swordplay, archery. She didn't have to worry about Septa Mordane looming over her and judging her on her "poor stitching" or her "blacksmiths hands".

 

So for once in her life, Sansa looked forward to her lessons, even the company she kept, Lyanna Mormont was exactly like her namesake and Arya felt almost guilty that she wished the girl was her real sister.

 

Sansa was easier to get along with when she was half the world away but she still found her annoying at times.

 

She found Jon when lessons were over before supper was ready- the only time she had with him since she didn’t sneak away from lessons and he would always be practising his swordplay in the morning. She didn’t know how early he woke to practice as he was needed by the household and would usually go out and hunt during midday.

 

He was most likely up from dawn.

 

She found Jon sharpening his sword underneath the heat tree of Bear Island. He reminded her of father when he did that though his sworn could never rival ice. It didn’t even have a name though he had said Arya could name it since she did such a good job with Needle.

* * *

  
  


**~Loras POV~**

 

Travel by boat did not agree with Loras. He has expelled the contents of his stomach ten times over and in all honesty, he was surprised he had anything left inside.

 

Even Sansa’s wolf seemed to get sick.

 

What little he knew of the majestic direwolf, the poor girl was less graceful than he knew the beast to be. 

 

His time with Willas must have stuck because he remembered some of the tricks he used when his dogs were sick so he more often than not found himself under a pile of warm fur. 

 

The illness struck by her companion brought a sense of sadness to Sansa who took it upon herself to nurse Lady back to health. She would, on occasion check-in with Loras with a soup she promised healed all ailments when she was not caught up with duties tending to the ship as though it were her own household.

 

The soldier’s lord Manderly had provided for them would defer to Sansa before they would turn to him. It was rather surprising as he was older and a man yet these men answered only to a young girl, all because her name is stark.

 

The respect the stark name commanded wasn’t unlike the respect the Tyrell’s found in the Reach but it was unlike anything he had ever seen. The northerners  _ adored _ their stark overlords and would go out of their way for them but completely earnest in motive. 

 

As much as the north was cold it would be impossible to say they were anything but warm to the starks and those they had faith in. 

 

Margaery had always loved helping the smallfolk and endearing herself in the hearts of their subjects- in a way that was completely contradictory to their grandmother. She might grow to love the North as she made them love her. 

 

There was a sombre note to their journey- even though he was overjoyed to get away from the frigid north (how his sister would stand it he didn't know) but he had been looking forward to seeing Renly when they stopped at Kingslanding. Alas, it seemed it would be months before he was reunited with his lover.

 

Unless he convinced Sansa to make a stop at Storms End and get Renly to leave Kingslanding to meet them there.

 

The pomp and circumstance they were greeted within white harbour were not shared in Gulltown. The Vale had practically shut its doors since their lord had died.

 

The port was mostly empty apart from Essosi merchant ships- though they too were few and far between.

 

**~Catelyn POV~**

 

Catelyn’s last correspondence with Petyr did little to assuage her nerves of ned leaving. No matter how often ned would comfort her or they would find comfort between themselves she still couldn’t help but be reminded of their wedding.

 

She had a limited time with her husband before he would be off to war but this time she doubted he would come back- with or without a child that wasn’t hers.

 

He always came back though she feared this time Ned would not be so lucky.

 

Her correspondence with Petyr had alleviated some of her apprehension but she knew her husband would be safe with her childhood friend.

 

_ Dearest Catelyn,  _

 

_ I can promise I shall do my utmost to ensure Lord Stark receives the treatment he deserves in Kingslanding.  _

 

_ Though I have to say your last letter was full of surprises but do not fret to confide in me like you used to back when I was just your father's ward and you were your father's daughter. _

 

_ It is a shame that we have not seen one another for so long. I have sent my well wishes to Lysa but I know how hard Jon Arryns death must be on you. _

 

_ I wish you all the best _

 

_ Petyr. _

 

She had placed the letter into a drawer in her vanity, along with the coded letter from her sister. She had spared no thought to why she felt the two letters should be together…

 

Rickon too was a gift from the Mother as she fretted, he was still a rapscallion but she found his clinginess was a balm to her soul when she was reminded of how far her babies were going away from her. 

  
With all the stress surrounding her with the royal visit and her family leaving it feels as though Petyr is the only steadfast in her life.

 

She could always count on him.  
  
  


* * *

 

**~Margaery POV~**

 

Grandmother had insisted in overseeing Margaery's education, she wasn't in the training yard like her brothers were but in-between her ladylike lessons with Septa Nysterica she would be taught the art of warfare, how to protect herself in unassuming ways whether it be with an abnormally sharp hairpin or a very comprehensive knowledge of poisons.

 

Of course, living in Highgarden she was accustomed to the plants that they grew (she could hardly call herself a Tyrell if she didn't know each flower and tree by their Valyrian name) 

 

Her lessons with the Maester on the art of healing, which again, were insisted upon by her grandmother who spoke of the importance of not relying on a Maester who could easily be swayed by some coin to see her dead. 

 

Which was something grandmother loved to taunt their Hightower relatives with. As much as they have away over the Maesters by funding and housing the whole endeavour they ironically could not see any further than the tower they're named for.

 

Well, the eyrie was rather majestic from what he could see in the distance but it could not compare to the majesty of Hightower. But presumably, Lysa Arryn would on occasion leave her tower unlike his grandfather Leyton. 

 

her grandmother still wouldn't trust one who she didn't line the pockets of.

 

With her pestle and mortar, she began grinding the poultice for a few of her cousins who had been burnt from the sun. The same sun, Elinor was basking in, stretched out like a cat  

 

The mixture of peppermint, Aloe Vera and witch hazel was almost ready for her to slather on to Megga. 

 

"Margie! I'm burning alive over here!" Elinor called out draped across the divan

 

She tutted at the foolishness of her cousin but continued her work. Sansa’s arrival could not come soon enough.

Robb had written to her thanking her profusely for her miniature portrait she had sent him and though his letters were often straightforward he had managed to soliloquise her beauty in his blunt northern way but she found it sweeter to her ear than any song by a bard. 

 

The tale of Joffrey’s temper and cruelty horrified her and she had visited the sept to thank the seven to have avoided her fathers plan to betroth her to such a rotten boy. She also gave thanks in the Godswood that Sansa had escaped retribution from the Lannisters and that nobody of import was harmed.

 

In front of her were, of course, the books on tinctures and poultices but there was also a book she had requested from the Maester on direwolves. Her request had raised eyebrows with the Maester so she went to a higher authority. She sent a raven to her aunt Malora Hightower saying it was merely so that she could prepare for the arrival of Sansa and her direwolf.

 

Malora was immediately intrigued by the idea that a direwolf would be this far south and had begun sending her numerous books on the north and the beasts that reside there. And had thanked Margaery for giving her a renewed vigour in researching the unknown North.

 

Her aunt might be the mad maid of Hightower but she certainly had her uses and knew a thing or two about discretion,   she had also told her that there was magic in direwolves as they were from the old north and older than what the Andals knew as Westeros.

 

Which only furthered Margaerys delight in the creatures. She did so love playing with the hounds Willas kept- though she preferred to hunt with a hawk. If she could endear herself to one direwolf than she could befriend her future husbands. 

* * *

 

  
  
  


**~Loras POV~**

 

After a few days travelling from Gulltown and then the trek up to the eyrie was almost as bad as the boat trip. The had stopped with Sansa’s uncle, the Blackfish at the bloody gate whoo was a rather welcoming man for such a dark name and he sent word up ahead to announce their impending arrival as well as offering to escort them up there- citing how it had been too long since he had visited the eyrie.

 

He was counting his blessings from the seven that he had met Ser Brynden Tully, a knight of the Nine-penny king’s war. He seemed overjoyed to meet his niece and would regale them with stories of her mother. His eyes would crinkle with laughter and his old age seemed to lessen as he saw his wrinkles were from laughter than old age.

 

He would even entertain Loras by sparring with him, in the mornings before they would continue the hike up the mountain.

 

It was rather surprising that they were then stopped at the gates of the moon. They were told by Nestor Royce that Lysa had declined to allow them to go further than that to the ire of both Sansa and Brynden.

 

Loras was beginning to wonder if they should even bother with The estranged lady Arryn but Sansa ruefully that it was merely the principle of the matter.

 

He could see an awful lot of Margaery in the young girl- more than he would ever have expected upon his first arrival. Sansa was coming out of her shell and upon meeting his sister she was sure to become a force to be reckoned with.

 

Thus began an even longer trek up the barren- though beautiful mountain of the moon.

 

Upon reaching the towering castle they were promptly escorted into the lord of the eyries solar without stopping at the high hall but he had a feeling they were edging ever closer to becoming well acquainted with the sky cells and subsequently the moon door. Their ungracious welcome had Loras worrying he may become rather well acquainted to the moon door.

 

They had been confined to a study by some of the knights. Which was rather unusual but Loras wouldn’t fret just yet. His grandmother would usually make visitors wait just to knock them off their high horse.

 

Sansa and Brynden were huddled together whispering conspiratorily, eying up their guards and the blackfish had his hand resting on a hidden dagger in his britches.

 

An hour or two passed like this before they were greeted by a steward who accompanied them to meet lady Arryn. Brynden greeted the steward like an old friend and was met with very little in the way of words but a look of resigned frustration.

 

Lysa was sat at her late husband’s desk, a vast amount of letters unopened had gathered at her side through the few that were opened had the most curious seal of a mockingbird.

 

The steward announced them and as Sansa moved to greet her aunt for the first time she was stopped as her aunt spoke over her.

 

“Your trip here is entirely wasted, you may continue your journey to Highgarden but you shall not stay a night in the here,” her eyes never moved from the letter she had in her hands, as she attempted to excuse them as though they were errant servants and not members of great houses and equal standing to her, “I will, however, have a member of my household escort you to the nearest inn.”

 

Grandmother has never thought highly of the Tullys but had always said Catelyn was the brightest of them if not rather dull, she thought Edmure to be as oafish as his father while Lysa was aloof and if maidservants to be believed- not quite all there. Loras had not taken much stock in it as Catelyn proved to be a delight but Lysa was a different case entirely.

 

Lysa Aryn nodded at one of her guards to escort them out but Sansa who had become as fiery as the hair she shared with her aunt. "Lady Lysa Arryn, you are not the woman my mother said you were”, Sansa all but spat out towards the haggard-looking woman.

 

She began inching closer as she continued to berate her aunt, come alive and rather reminiscent of her wolf. 

 

(Lady had been a great help with the Shadowcat’s that lurked along the high road and he would have a fur cloak to gift his sister on her impending nuptials)

  
  


"A Tully turned Arynn and yet you seem to be neither. Family duty honour, as high as honour. Your house words and yet you show no love for your family, you refuse to do your duty and you couldn't care less for honour. I came to you as your niece and yet you would cast me out as your enemy. Be warned the north will not forget, you may find a biting wind through every crack and winter at your heels. Winter is coming and you cannot outrun what you have incurred.”

 

The hairs on the back of his neck went up. It was like witnessing his grandmother at work but Sansa was easily led by her passion. She was rather like a raging sea or un unrelenting winter

 

Brynden- who had joined them and appeared shocked at his niece, continued Sansa’s barrage of betrayal and resigned from his post as the knight of the gate.

 

Their arrival at Highgarden would certainly be dramatic enough to rival any song of Highgarden’s bards.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this took so long!! I've been going through a really mad patch of my life and it's been difficult to get this to a place where I feel happy posting it. I hope for your sake and mine I can get the next chapter posted more promptly.
> 
> id love to know if any of you have noticed anything about Jon...

**Author's Note:**

> It's a mess to be honest but I'll happily accept any constructive criticism and also please comment who I should betroth Sansa too.
> 
> Any feedback is welcome!


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